





■■■:■■ 



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V*, 




WILLIAM SAMPSON: 



INCLUDING 

PARTICULARS OF HIS ADVENTURES IN VARIOUS PARTS OF 

EUROPE; HIS CONFINEMENT IN THE DUNGEONS OF 

THE INQUISITION IN LISBON, &C &C 

SEVERAL ORIGINAL LETTERS; 

BEING 

HIS CORRESPONDENCE WITH THE MINISTERS OF STATE 
IN UREAT-BRITAiw aino rORTUGAL, 

A SHORT SKETCH 

OF THE 

HISTORY OF IRELAND . 

PARTICULARLY AS IT RESPECTS THE SPIRIT OP 
BRITISH DOMINATION IN THAT COUNTRY; 

AND 

A FEW OBSERVATIONS 

ON THE STATU ot? MAMEKSj &C. 1JY AMERICA. 



SECOND EDITION: 

REVISED AND CORRECTED BY THE AUTHOR, 



PUBLISHED BY SAMUEL B. T. CALDWELL* 
LEESBURG, VA. 

•••• 

1817, 



>££>"' 






w&ft 



n 






District of New -Fork, ss. 

BE IT REMEMBERED, that on the eighteenth 
lay of November, in the thirty-second year of the inde- 
pendence of the United States of America, William Samp« 
son of the said district, hath deposited in this office, the title 
of a book, the right whereof he claims as author, in the 
words following:, to wit: 

MEMOIRS OF WILLIAM SAMPSON; 
Including; particulars of his adventures in various parts of 
Europe; his confinement in the dungeons of the inquisition 
in Lisbon, 6cc. &c. several original letters, being his cor- 
respondence with the ministers of state in Great-Britain 
and Portugal; a short sketch of the history of Ireland, 
particularly as it respects the spirit of British domination 
in that country, and a few observations on the state of 
manners, &c. in America. 

In conformity to the act of the Congress of the United 
States, entitled "An act for the encouragement of learning 
by securing the copies of maps, charts, and books, to the 
authors and proprietors of such copies during the times 
therein mentioned, and extending the benefits thereof to the 
arts of designing, engraving and etching historical and 
other prints.'* 

; EDWARD DUNSCOMB, 

*"v : Clerk of the District of Neyj«York. 



ADVERTISEMENT. 



Feeling a deep interest in the affairs of that ill-fated 
country, whose history, at an interesting period, is here 
fully and faithfully portrayed; seeing our market entirely 
exhausted of so valuable an acquisition as the following 
work; hearing the great demand of my fellow-citizens for 
another edition; regretting that their just demand had not 
been sooner gratified, and sympathizing with the unfortu- 
nate author, on whom the iron hand of despotic power has 
heavily pressed, the publisher is induced to offer this new 
and revised edition of the Memoirs of Sampson to a liberal 
and enlightened public, fully confident that the sunshine oi 
their approbation will bask upon him. Few works, pos- 
sessing the merit of the following pages, have ever, in this 
enlightened country, been permitted to slumber in the arms 
of obscurity, and never to sink into the vortex oF oblivion. 

"While, therefore, the people are capable of distinguishing 
"where real merit lies;" while they possess commiserating 
hearts, and can shed the sympathizing tear over the suff( 
ings of poor unhappy Erin, bowed down by the galling vol 
of oppression; while historic facts worthy of record can in- 
terest; while smoothc flowing periods and elegant diction 
have a tendency to please; while severe and pungent satire 
will amuse, this work will meet with ample patronage. The 
history of Ireland during that period when tyranny and des- 
potism with blood-stained hands were stalking, with gigant- 
ic strides, o'er her pleasant hills and fertile vallies, cannot 




IV ADVERTISEMENT. 

fail to be interesting — particularly interesting to Americans, 
who but yesterday escaped the chains that now manacle Ire- 
land, and a worse than Egyptian bondage. Like Daniel, 
we have escaped the devouring jaws of the lion, and like the 
sacred three of old, we have been delivered from the fiery fur- 
nace unscorched. Let our prayers then be offered for the safe 
deliverance of our brethren, "born in the country of affliction," 
whose "days are days of sorrow," who are yet in the power 
of the British lion, and who may yet be devoured in the 

flames of despotism. 

PUBLISHER. 



PREFACE, 



TO TTTE AMERICAN PUBLIC. 

THE author, without apology, submits his Memoirs td 
that nation where truth can be uttered without alloy. 

To the idolaters of English power, some of whom have- 
motives too strong for truth to shake, he is aware that his 
work will not be pleasing. But he knows that the genius of 
America is not that of persecution; and that although for 
ten years past, terror and corruption have been able to si- 
lence the vindicators of the Irish cause; yet it needs but to 
be known to find favor with the just and generous of every 

country. 

The printing picooco of Ireland have been lawlessly de- 
molished, and all who dare write or speak the truth, have 
been hunted to destruction; whilst scouts and hirelings, paid 
from the Irish treasury, have been maintained in the re- 
motest regions of the earth, to slander Ireland; yet all this 
has not been sufficient to reconcile the minds of thinking 
people to the idea of a nation of rebels, or a kingdom out of a 
king's peace. For if a government be so manifestly against a 
people, and a people so manifestly against a government: if 
a kingdom must be put out of the king's peace, in order that 
a faction may monopolize royal power, it maybe fairly asked, 
on which side is rebellion? and the answer arises spontane- 
ously in the breast of a free American, 



VI PREFACE. 

Some of the most respectable citizens of America have ac- 
knowledged to the author, that they had been deceived 
respecting Ireland, and were desirous of knowing the state 
of things; and this was a principal motive for giving to the 
public his Memoirs, which, from certain principles of mod- 
eration, he had so long suppressed. 

The author has, with no less frankness avowed, that the 
unremitting and reiterated calumnies levelled against the 
American reputation, had not been without effect upon his 
mind, until it was his fortune to be corrected by the happiest 
experiment: till in that country, where, it was written,] that 
the men were sorded, the women withered, the institutions 
vicious, and religion unknown; he found exalted hospitality, 
the charms of female society elegant and attractive; institu- 
tions which on the other side the Atlantic pass for wild and 
visionary theories, reduced to practice, and unexampled pros- 
perity growing beneath their shade: till he found religion un- 
sullied by political craft or violent dominion, inculcated with 
purity, and exercised in charity: till he found in the benigni- 
ty of the bench, a long lost protesbUm, ana ia me liberali- 
ty of the bar, friends worthy of his esteem. 

To such a people he addresses himself with confidence. 
The faint sketch his Memoirs present of the calamities of his 
country, may serve at least to awake attention to a subject 
too little known for the common interest of humanity. The 
rest will follow; and the time may yet come, when the genius 
of Columbia, exulting in her young flight, and soaring on her 
eagle-wing, in quest of subjects equal to her swelling concep- 
tions, may find them in the courage, the constancy, and un- 

t See Moore, Weld, Parkinson, Davis, The Stranger, and all 
the rest. 



PREFACE. VII 

deserved calamities of slandered Ireland. Till then, let it 
be kept in mind, that the same writers and runners, hired to 
traduce Irishmen in America, are those who traduce Ameri- 
ca in Europe; with this only difference, that in all their 
clumsy sarcasms, the spirit of the jest is, to call the Ameri- 
can Yankee, and the Irishman Paddy. 



CONTENTS, 



LETTER I. PAGE 

^Treason— Carlisle Gaol—Bridewell, 18 

LETTER II. 

M'Dougall— Trevor— 'Torture-^Mtice of Trial 24 

LETTER III. 

lord Comwallis—Sir Ralph Abenrombie, 3 1 

LETTER IV* 

Negotiation— Byrne—Bond, 36 

LETTER V, 

Case stated—Union, 40 

LETTER VI. 

49 
Treachery, p 

LETTER VII. 

Chicane— Lie by Act of Parliament— Lord Castlereagh, 53 

LETTER VIII. 

Lovely Peggy— Lovely Mary—Shipwreck, 59 

LETTER IX. 

Ancient Britons— Duke of Portland, 64 

Advertisement to the Reader, 71 

LETTER X. 

Mr. Wickham— Colonel Edwards— Oporto, 

LETTER XI. 

Taken prisoner— Released— Liberality—Mr, JVas/i— 
Abbe Morand, 

R 



X CONTENTS. 

LETTER XII. PAGE 

Again imprisoned — Palace — Prison — Corrigidor-— 

King — Queen — Prince — Variety, 96 

LETTER XIII. 

Report of my Trial — Mr. Sealy, 99 

LETTER XIV. 

Doctor — Journey to Lisbon — Commedians, Friars, SfC. 102 

LETTER XV. 

Mr. Walpole — A Trick — Ministers of Police — Corres- 
pondence — Sweet-Meats, 120 

LETTER XVI. 

An Accoucheur — Difficulties — Intendente, 123 

LETTER XVII. 

Tried again — Acquitted — Attempt at Suicide — My dan- 
ger — Dungeons described — Jurisprudence — My fears 
— Antonio — Italian nobleman— Lady — Cruel perfidy 
— English threats — Gibraltar prison ship — Another 
Gaol, 126 

LETTER XVIII. 

Nocturnal Migration — Other prison — More nauseous 
Dungeons — Hunting by candle-light, 133 

LETTER XIX. 

Not quite so bad — Music — Amours of various Colours — 
Delatjs of State — The Saints — Something like Tom 
Pipes, 135 

LETTER XX. 

Belter — The Ladies — The Mirror — Prospect — Ladies 9 
Eyes — Bow and Arrows — Bad shot — Hopes still, 1ST 

LETTER XXI. 

The Neighbours — Infernal Dungeons, 142 



CONTENTS. XI 

LETTER XXII. PAGE 

Kid-napped — Transported — Our Adieus — State-affairs 
—Protest, 145 

LETTER XXIII. 

Voyage — Discover — French Privateer — English Frig- 
ate—Dangers — Difficulties — Distresses — Landing in 
Spain, 150 

LETTER XXIV. 

Again threatened with Arrestation — Remonstrance — 
Municipality of Batjonne — Arrete motive — Arrival 
in France, 156 

LETTER XXV. 

Bordeaux — Bureau Central — Reflections on Party Spirit 
— New Embarrassments — Mr. Forster — Special Let- 
ter of Exchange — My Protest — Its effect, 161 

LETTER XXVI. 

Mrs, Sampson — Correspondence— Mr. Merrij, 167 

LETTER XXVII. 

Peace — Cornwallis — Colonel Littlehales — My Memorial 
— Amiens — General Musnier — Unrelenting Persecu- 
tion — Mrs. Sampson — Her arrival in France with 
her Children, 178 

LETTER XXVIII. 

Of the Terror in France, 189 

i 

LETTER XXIX. 

Of the Character of the French Nation, 196 

LETTER XXX. 

Journey to Hamburg — Occupations — Correspondence — » 
Mr. Thornton— Lord Hawksbury—Mr. Fox, 202 



sii j ontents. 

LETTER XXXI. PAGE 

Embarkation — Danger — Journey to London — Lord 
Spencer — Once more imprisoned — Mr, Sparrow — 
Governor Picton, 225 

Hope and the Exile — a Vision, 239 

LETTER XXXII. 

Causes of the Troubles in Ireland — A brief Review of 
Irish History, 248 

LETTER XXXIII. 

Historical Ramble continued — First Visit of our Eng- 
lish Ancestors to our Irish Ancestors — Beginning of 
the Dispute, 268 

LETTER XXXIV. 

Of the Reformation, 278 

LETTER XXXV. 

Theobald Wolfe Tone — Of my own Crimes — Of the 
Crimes of the Irish Rebels — Union of Ireland with 
England— -Irishmen with Irishmen, 310 

LETTER XXXVI, 

The Irish Emigrant, 330 

& Letter to Lord Spencer, 338 



CONTENTS OF THE APPENDIX, 



no. i. Page 

Informers hanged by their Employers, 345 

NO. II. 

Massacres of the Currah of Kildare and Glenco? 348 

NO. III. 

Speech of Theobald Wolfe Tone, 352 

NO. IV. 

Besolutions of the Armagh Magistrates, and the atroci- 
ties of the Peep-of day-Boys, $57 

NO. V. 

Lord Castlereagh, 362 

NO. VI. 

Passport of the Duke of Portland, 364 

NO. VII. 

Petition of the freeholders of Down, presented by Mr. 
Fox to his Majesty, 265 

NO. VIII. 

Apology, $6? 



xrv APPENDIX, 

no. ix. Page 

Letters of informers to their employers, 867 

no. x. 

Belfast Resolutions, 373 

NO. XI. 

Humanity punished with Death, 376 

NO. XII, 

Certificate of Mr. Lafargne, 379 

NO. Xltl. 

Jirrete Motive, 380 

NO. XIV. 

Interrogatories. 332 

NO. XV, 

Passport, from Paris to Hamburg, 390 

NO. XVI. 

Matilda Tone, 39 1 

Facts, in continuation of the appendix, 365 

Tests and signs of the Orangemen, ibid. 

Declarations and Tests of United Irishmen, 398 

Extracts from Lord Moira's Speech, 399 

Committee of Elders, 404 

The words of Lord Edward Fitzgerald, 406 

Moll Doyle, 407 

Proclamation of a Rebel General, 408 

Dying Declaration of William Orr, 409 

Protestant Fanaticism? 412 

Sacrilege, 41 S 



APPENDIX, XV 

Page 

General Murphey, 413 

Irish Law, 414 

Mr. Walter Devereaux 415 

Michael Egan, 416 

Bloody Executions at Wexford, 418 

Cannibal, 420 

Bloody Parson, 422 

Walking Gallows, 423 

Tom the Devil, 426 

Bloody Friday, 428 

Female Wretchedness* 429 

Mary Smith, 430 ' 

Female Chastity, 43 1 



MEMOIRS, &c 



LETTER I* 

^reasons-Carlisle Gaol — -Bridexvell , 

AT length, my friend, I take up my pen to comply 
with your desire, and to give you the history of my extraor- 
dinary persecution. From it you may form a judgment of 
that system of government which drove the unhappy people 
of Ireland to revolt. But to judge rightly, you should also 
be aware, that of many thousand such cases, mine is one o! 
the most mild. 

Before any open violence was attempted against me, I 
had heen often distantly threatened, and indirectly insulted: 
And particularly on the 12th. of February 1798, I was 
charged with high treason by the Alderman of Dublin, 
This charge of high treason was upon the following ground: 
The printer of the paper called the Press, Mr. Stockdale,. 
was imprisoned under an arbitrary sentence for breach of 
privilege in not answering to interrogatories tending to con- 
vict him before a parliamentary committee. And whilst he 
was lying in gaol, his house was beset by a large military 
force; and his afflicted wife was thrown into an agony of 
terror. This scene was in my neighborhood. I was the 
counsel of the husband, and whilst at dinner received a re-? 



18 MEMOIRS OP 

quest from Mrs. Stockdale to go and confer with the high 
sheriff on her behalf, and to depreciate the vengeance 
that was threatened. I found the house crouded with mili, 
tarv, who threatened to demolish it, as other printers hous- 
es had been demolished. The types and printing imple- 
ments were destroyed, and the unfortunate woman thrown 
into an agony of terror. After interceding with the sheriff, 
he conducted me to the door. Mrs. Stockd ale's sister hav- 
ing picked up a parcel of ball cartridges, deposited by the 
sheriff himself, or by his consent, on a former occasion, for 
the purposes of defence against a mob, became fearful that 
they might be made a pretext for a massacre, took advan- 
tage of the door being opened for me, to carry them away. 
They broke through her apron, and scattered upon the 
fiaggs. The whole sergeant's guard crying out, that they 
had found the croppie's j)ills 9 pursued me at full speed. I 
turned short to meet them, and by that means checked their 
fi^. I was immediately surrounded by near twenty bay- 
onets presented to my body, each soldier encouraging his 
comrade to run me through. I assumed an air of confidence 
and security beyond what I felt, and appealed to the ser- 
geant, who, after some rough parley, led me back a prison- 
er to his officers within. He, the lady, the sergeant, and 
some others, underwent an examination, and at two in the 
morning, I was told by alderman Carleton, that there was a 
charge against me amounting to high treason; but that if I 
would be upon honor to present myself to him on the follow- 
ing day, he would enlarge me, I went the next morning, ac- 
companied by Mr. Montgomery, Mr. Hill Wilson, and the 
honorable John Leeson, to demand some explanation; the 
alderman was denied, and there the matter finished as it 
began, in buffoonery. 



WIIXIAM SAMPSON. 13 

I learned afterwards, that the investment and occupation 
of Mr. Stockdale's house, was to prevent an intended pub* 
lication in the "Press," against lord Clare, from circu- 
lating. That side of the news-paper, however, which con- 
tained it, had already been printed, and the soldiers who 
made prize of the impression, circulated it rapidly at a 
great advanced price. 

But the event from which my present persecution flows, 
in an uninterrupted series, was an attempt to make me 
a prisoner on the 12th. of March, of the same year; a day 
famous for the arrest of many men distinguished, at that 
time by their qualities, but more so by their sufferings 
since. 

This was considered by my enemies a good occasion to 
repair the blunders of the former day; and I was, without 
the slightest pretext, included in the list of common pro- 
scription. 

It was probably hoped, that in the seizure of my papers, 
something might be found to justify so violent a measure; 
but no such ground appearing, more scandalous means 
were resorted to; and an officer of the Cavan militia, Mr. 
Colclough, was found so unworthy of his profession, as to 
be the instrument of that scandal, and to propagate that he 
had found a commission naming me a French general. 
And a noble lord (Glentworth) did not scruple to proclaim 
the same falsehood to the young gentlemen of the college 
corps of yeomanry on their parade. Such was the foul 
commencement of that abomination, of which you must 
have patience to listen to the detail. 

Being from home when the house I inhabited was beset, 
my first care was to retire to a place of safety, from whence 
J wrote a letter to the lord lieutenant earl Cambden* which 



H MEMOIRS Ot 

was put into his hand by general Crosbie; anil another to 
the attorney-general, Mr. Wolfe, which was delivered by 
the honorable John Leeson. In each of these letters I offer- 
ed to surrender instantly, on the promise of receiving a 
trial. 

No answer being given* I remained in Dublin until the 
16th of April, when the terror became so atrocious that 
humanity could no longer endure it. In every quarter of 
the metropolis, the shrieks and groans of the tortured were 
to be heard, and that, through all hours of the day and 
night. Men were taken at random without process or 
accusation, and tortured at the pleasure of the lowest dregs 
of the community. Bloody theatres were opened by these 
self-constituted inquisitors, and new and unheard of ma- 
chines were invented for their diabolical purposes. Un- 
happily in every country, history is but the record of black 
crimes; but if ever this history comes to be fairly written, 
whatever has yet been held up to the execration of man- 
kind, will fade before it For it had not happened before, 
in any country or in any age, to inflict torture and to offer 
bribe at the same moment. In this bloody reign, the cow- 
ard and the traitor were sure of wealth and power; the 
brave and the loyal to suffer death or torture. The very 
mansion of the viceroy was peopled with salaried denoun- 
cers, kept in secret and led out only for purposes of death. 

Some of them, struck with remorse, have since published 
:heir own crimes, and some have been hanged by their 
employers. (See Appendix, No. I.J — Men were hung up 
until their tongues started from their mouths, and let down 
to receive fresh offers of bribe to betray their neighbor or 
discover against themselves. If they neither knew nor 
would discover any tiling, these intervals of relaxation 



WUXIAM SAMPSON. 21 

were followed by new and more poignant inflictions. And 
when that courage, which is the noble attribute of my un- 
happy countrymen, spurned in the midst of agony at the 
tempter and the bribe; the nearest and the tenderest rela- 
tives were often brought to witness these horrors; that out 
of their feelings might be extorted some denunciation, true 
w false, which the virtue of the sufferer had withheld, 

To avoid such scenes, disgraceful to the name of man, 
and acted in the name of the king and British constitution, 
on the day abovementioned (the 16th of April, 1798) I em- 
barked in a collier ship for Whitehaven, and was on the 
following morning arrested on my landing, pursuant to 
general orders issued to the officers of that port. From 
hence I was sent to the county gaol of Carlisle, merely be- 
cause I refused to tell my name; and my servant, John 
Russel, of whom I shall have too much reason to speak 
hereafter, was detained a prisoner in the workhouse at 
Whitehaven* 

Though I never did, nor never shall fear my enemies, I 
did not think it wise to brave them at this moment, seefeig 
they had the power of putting me in gaol, from whence the 
law had no power to set me free; and I therefore passed by 
the name of Williams, being nearly my name by baptism. 
Many attempts were made upon my servant to disclose my 
name, but he refused; and the newspapers of the place were 
mean enough to publish that he had betrayed me. Happi- 
ly torture had not then, nor has yec been introduced into 
England: that may be referred for the future; and those 
means which have succeeded to overturn the ancient con- 
stitutions of Ireland, bribery, corruption, division, torture, 
religion, and military executions, may much sooner than 
many think, be employed to clear away the ruins of British 



22 MEMOIRS OF 

liberty. And the Irish may, in their turn, be led over to 
England to repay the benefits they have received. 

Whilst in Carlisle, I obtained leave from the magistrates 
and gaoler, to write to the duke of Portland, then secretary 
of state, requesting earnestly to be sent to trial, if any one 
had been impudent enough to charge me with any crime, 
Or, if that justice was not granted, that I might rather re- 
main where I was, than to be again forced amidst the hor- 
rors which raged in my own country. But neither the one 
nor the other of these requests were listened to, and I was 
sent back again to Dublin, with my servant, where we 
landed on the 5th of May. 

It is scarcely worth while to mention the vexations I 
experienced in Carlisle, they are so eclipsed by the horrors 
which were to follow. The gaoler, Mr. Wilson, was by 
profession a butcher. The moment I saw his face, I re- 
collected having been present in the court of king's bench, 
during my attendance as a student, when he was sentenced 
to two years imprisonment for having kidnapped an old 
man, and married him by force to a woman, his accomplice. 
This sentence he had strictly undergone, and so far that 
fault was expiated; and he was now for his services at elec- 
tions for members of parliament, under the special protec- 
tion of lord Lonsdale, named gaolor of the county prison. 
Such was the man who celebrated his clemency in accept- 
ing of payment for not putting me in irons,* and who, when 
I was with difficulty allowed a bed to repose myself upon, 
insisted upon sharing it with me. One messenger came 
from London, another from Dublin; and, so averse was the 
spirit of the people of that country to such proceedings, that 
the messenger's quarters were surrounded by guards: pa- 
troles went round the city, and I could scarcely prevent my 



WIIXIAM SAMPSON. 23 

rescue. Such was the beginning of that persecution you 
have desired me to relate so circumstantially. 

I was, upon landing in Dublin, taken to the apartments of 
Mr. Coke, as it was told me, to be examined. I was locked 
up some hours, but this gentleman did not think proper to 
examine me; and he judged well: perhaps, upon examining 
himself, he thought it best not to examine me. 

From hence I was sent under a guard to the Castle tav- 
ern, where night and day two centinels were placed in my 
room. From these centinels I learned to what atrocious 
length the brutal licentiousness of the military had been en- 
couraged. A young man of the North Cork militia, whom 
I had, by civilities, drawn into conversation, frankly re- 
gretted the free quarters in Kildare, where he said, that 
amongst other advantages, they had their will of the men's 
wives and daughters. I asked him, if his officers permitted 
that? and he answered, by a story of one who had ordered a 
farmer, during the time of the free quarters, to bring him 
his daughter in four and twenty hours, under pain of having 
his hoifee burned. The young girl had been removed to a 
neighbouring parish. The father would not be the instru- 
ment of his daughter's pollution. And this young soldier 
assured me, he had been one, who, by his officer's com- 
mand, had burned the house of the father. And this was 
called loyalty to the king and British constitution; and now 
this crime, with a million of others, is indemnified by law. 
Whilst I, who would rather die than countenance such 
atrocity, am, without enquiry, dungeoned, proclaimed, pur- 
sued, and exiled. And still, great as my wrongs are, they 
are but as shadows of those of thousands of my countrymen. 

On the 7th of May, I was taken with a long procession 
of prisoners, all strangers to me, to bridewell, where I was 



34 MEMOIRS or 

doomed to suffer, what honest men must ever expect, whei* 
in the power of those whose crimes they have opposed. In 
feridewell I was locked up in dismal solitude for many 
months, 

I cannot help mentioning, before I go further, the extra- 
ordinary appearance of Mr. Cooke's office in the Castle. 
It was full of those arms which had been at different times 
and in various parts of the country, wrested from the hands 
of the unfortunate peasants. They were chiefly pikes of a 
most rude workmanship, and forms the most grotesque: 
green crooked sticks cut out of the hedges with long spikes, 
Bails, knives, or scythe blades fastened on the end of them, 
very emblematical of the poverty and desperation of these 
unhappy warriors; and shewing, in a strong light, the won- 
derful effects of despair, and the courage it inspires. 
Never did human eyes behold so curious an armory as this 
secretary's office. 



LETTER II. 

M'DougaR — Trevor — Torture—Notice of Trial, 

THE first occurrence in bridewell which gave me 
pleasure, was a notice of trial, served upon me in due form. 
I thought my enemies now committed past retreat, and I 
vainly anticipated the triumph I should have in their con- 
frontation and confusion. I feared neither corrupt judges, 
packed juries, hired witnesses, treacherous advocates, nor 
terror-struck friends. I was all-sufficient for myself against 
such hosts. I had no need of defence, but had much of ac- 
cusation to bring forth. I had committed no murders nor 



, WILLIAM SAMPSON. £5 

treasons. I had burned no houses, nor tortured no free 
men. I asked no absolution in acts of parliament, passed 
in one sesion, to indemnify the crimes of the preceding one. 
I had legally and loyally defended the acknowledged rights 
of my countrymen. I had opposed myself with honest 
firmness to the crimes of arson, treason, murder, and tor- 
ture; and rather than my countrywomen should be deflow- 
ered, I was ready, as it was my duty, to defend them witli 
my life. I had done more; for when the boiling indigna- 
tion of the people pointed to self-preservation, through in- 
dividual retaliation, I had spent sleepless nights to save the 
lives of those who, after so many years of vengeance, seem 
still to hunt for mine. But think not, my friend, that I 
should ever condescend to make a merit of this to those 
despicable men. The principal of my actions was too pure 
to be in any way connected with their degraded persons* 

During the time that I was locked up in secret, my ser- 
vant had found protection in the house and service of Mr. 
and Mrs. Lecson, with the friendly condition of restoring 
him to me as soon as I should be set free. He was allowed 
to come at times for my linen, and other necessary commis- 
sions, under the bars of my window; but only got leave to 
speak to me in the presence of the keeper, or the serg^uit of 
the guard. Upon receiving the notice of trial, I sent him 
with the good news to Mr. Vincent, an attorney connected 
by marriage with my family', to request this gentleman to 
come and consult with me upon the necessary steps towards 
justifying myself, and confounding my accusers, if any 
should dare to appear against me. But unhappily there 
was no thought of trying me, as you will see by the atro- 
cious result of this insolent mockery of justice. Mr. Vin- 
cent, pursuant to my request, wrote in the ordinary course, 

D 



26 MEMOIRS OF 

lo the secretary, Mr. Cooke, who seemed now to hare 
usurped all civil jurisdiction in such cases, for leave to 
come to me, and received for answer, a refusal. That I 
might be apprised of this, for he dared not now come him- 
self, even in sight of my prison, he copied Mr. Cooke's 
note, and sent it open, by my servant John, who delivered 
it to be read by the gaoler; and afterwards it was hand- 
ed up through the iron bars of my window, upon the point 
of the sergeant's halberd. Such was the crime for which 
this unfortunate young man was pursued, dragged forci- 
bly from the house of Mr. Leeson to the barracks of 
the Cavan militia, where he was put to the cruelist torture. 
One executioner was brought to relieve another: his back 
and shoulders were first mangled, and then the rest of his 
body bared, and wantonly lacerated. This done, he was 
thrown raw and smarting upon the boards of the guard* 
room, with a threat of a similar execution on the following 
day, which he certainly must have undergone, had not Mr. 
Leeson made interest to save him, a favor which he with 
difficulty obtained. Though the bringing of the letter 
touching the subject of my trial, was the pretext for this in- 
famous deed; yet the farther object appeared during the 
execution: for, as often as the torture was suspended, the 
young man was exhorted to save himself by some denuncia- 
tion of his master. Such was the end of that famous notice 
of trial, of which, from that day forward, I could never hear 
a word. 

From this faithful servant himself, I never should have 
heard of this transaction, so generously anxious was he to 
spare me such vexation in the then dangerous state of my 
health. But I had a doctor who was not so tender, and 
who seemed to take pleasure in announcing it to me. As 



WIIXIAM SAMPSON. £7 

this doctor made part of the system, it is right I should say 
a few words of him. 

Being deeply affected in my lungs, I had requested to see 
some physician in whom I could confide. . But, instead of 
that indulgence, there was sent me a certain Mr. Trevor, 
from the military hospital, a surgeon and apothecary; hut 
whose chief practice, one would suppose, had been to stand 
by at military executions, and prescribe how much a pa- 
tient could be made to suffer short of the crime of murder. 
Amongst civilized men a doctor is a friend, bringing to 
suffering humanity the consolations it requires, and com- 
forting even when he cannot cure. But such a person 
would have ill suited the views of the governing faction. 
This man's first care was not for my health. His first or- 
dinance was, that another bolt should be added to those 
already sufficiently massive on my door, and to threaten 
the turnkey with flogging if he did not keep me close. 
How far the turnkey deserved to be whipped for his too 
much tenderness, you will judge from his history, which I 
had from his own mouth. As he was another part of the 
system, it may be worth relating. 

His name was John M'Dougall. Hq was a native of 
the county of Down, and having been formerly, during the 
time of the hearts of sted, charged with various crimes, 
amongst which was the burning of Mr. Waddel Cunning- 
ham's house; and his name proclaimed in the news-papers 
with a reward for his arrest; he took advantage of his re- 
ligion to save him from the fate that threatened him. For, 
about that time, Mr. George Hobert Fitzgerald had adver- 
tised for Protestants to replace the Papist tenantry on his 
lands, as these latter being proscribed for their religion's 
sake, and deprived of the privilege of voting for members 



23 MEMOIRS 01 

of parliament, were unserviceable to his ambition, and as 
such to be turned off his estate. Eyery body knows by 
what crime that unhappy man, endowed with the joint ad- 
vantages of birth, talents, and education, forfeited his life; 
and of the fate that he, with his principal accomplice, 
Ereaknoch, was sentenced to undergo. John M'Dougall, 
who had been too near a witness of the death of Mr. Patrick 
Randall M'Donnell, was however reserved for other desti- 
nies. He once more found it not imprudent to emigrate, 
and for this time took refuge in Scotland, where, having 
unfortunately knocked out the eye of a man, he, in order 
to wash out this offence, in his zeal for his king and coun- 
try, and to merit the rewards given to those who forward 
the recruiting service, swore two of his prosecutors to be 
deserters from the army, and himself enlisted in the Dum- 
barton Fencibles, to fight in the great cause of the throne 
and the altar. 

On his return from Guernsey, where he had been some 
years in garrison, he found, in Ireland, in a congenial ad- 
ministration, the road to new promotion, and was selected 
from his corps as the fittest for the office he now held. 

You will, perhaps, be curious to know how so finished a 
politician could have been so much off his guard, as to 
make these confessions to a prisoner under his care. I, 
myself was much surprised at it; but it seems wisely or- 
dained, that some fatality should ever hang upon the rear 
of enormity, and detection almost ever fellow guilt, though 
often too late for this world's justice. What led to these 
discoveries was as follows: 

Colonel Maxwell, of the same militia regiment, in whose 
barracks, and by whose soldiers my servant had been tor- 
tured; and one of whose officers (Mr. Colclough) had af- 



WILLIAM SAMPSON. £9 

firmed, that he had found, amongst my papers, a French 
general's commission: this colonel, son of a right reverend 
bishop, had, about this time, made a motion in the House 
of Commons, that the prisoners in the civil custody should 
he taken out and dealt with militarily^ I believe, without 
exaggeration, that this was no less tffan to say, that we 
should all be murdered. And it was given to understand, 
that my life, with that of the rest of the prisoners, should 
he answerable for the approach of any insurgents towards 
the prison. 

The manner in which the terrorists of the House of Com- 
mons had received this motion, made it plain how many 
ready instruments there were for such a crime: I therefore 
attempted to engage Mr. M'Dougall, by his interest, not 
to take part in such a murder; and I was fortunate enough 
to surmount every scruple, save the sense of danger to him- 
self, and the additional difficulty of his escaping after being 
so long proclaimed with a reward for his arrest, and a 
description published of his person. Thus it was, that bal- 
ancing between avarice and fear, he deigned to make me 
this revelation, and favor me with his confidence. 

I will, however, before I pass this man of confidence by 
give you another characteristic anecdote of him: One day 
after a long and rigorous* seclusion, he proposed to let me, 
through special indulgence, go down to amuse myself with 
another prisoner in the court-yard. So new, and so grati- 
fying a permission, was not to be refused. He turned the 
key in the outer door to prevent surprise, and a day or 
two afterwards I missed a number of guineas from a sack 
which I had always left loose. Upon missing this money 
I applied to doctor Trevor, who, instead of doctor, was 
now in the character of a military inspector of these strong 



GO MEMOIRS OE 

places, and a countercheck upon the humanity of the gaol- 
ers. A search was promptly and peremptorily decreed. 
John M'Bougall was taken by surprize; and in his first 
flurry, discovered that he had twelve guineas stitched up 
in the waistband of his breeches; but he said it would soon 
appear clear to every body that they were not my guineas, 
but his own, as they would be found mildewed, being the 
same he had carried with him over the seas to the island 
of Guernsey, and from thence home again. This asser- 
tion, whatever pretensions he might have as an alchemist* 
proved him but a bad chemist. But there was another 
stumbling block. Besides that the guineas were all 
bright and shining, many of them were coined after the 
time of his sailing for Guernsey: and besides, they were 
wrapped up in a morsel of a Dublin journal, which he had 
brought for me the very day on which he had so kindly 
let me into the court to take the air. However, he now had 
time to rally his ingenuity, and deliberately accounted for 
the whole, by saying that his wife had some days ago sold 
a web of linen to a captain in the regiment, now absent 
upon duty: that upon the receipt of the price of it, they had 
counted their common stock together, made a new reparti- 
tion, and that he had stitched up what fell to his share, as 
was his military custom, in the waistband of his breeches. 
I proposed for common satisfaction, that the captain 
should be written to; but it was not done, and Mr. M* 
Dougall, furbishing up his musket, told one of the prison- 
ers that he would revenge his reputation upon me. I 
knew that if he was tolerated for robbing me, he would be 
more than indemnified for murdering me: I therefore 
proposed peace and the statu quo, which was accepted* 
But such was the* doctor* and such the guardian; the only 



WILLIAM SAMFSOX. 5 I 

two beings of my species with whom I was permitted to 
converse, and that only when the one came las daily 
rounds as a spy, to see that I received no indulgence; and 
the other opened my door to give me what was necessary 
to my existence. 

Once, indeed, there came three gentlemen deputed from 
the grand jury, to visit me with the other prisoners under 
notice of trial. They asked me, if I had any thing to repre- 
sent to the court then sitting, or to the jury? I told them that 
my health was bad; that I requested to he tried, and was 
ready at a moment's warning. For this intrusion, I myself 
heard the doctor threaten these grand jurors, and reprove 
the keeper: For he said, that* Mr. Cooke alone had the 
power to dispose of us. I never heard that these grand ja* 
rors were whipped: — if they were not, I hold them for 
timate. 



LETTER III. 

Lord Cornwallis — Sir Ralrth Mercromhie. 

AT length, to pass over a world of odious details-, 
came the marquis Cornwallis, bringing words of pe, r ic:\ 
Civil and military licentiousness were now at their height- 
You must have heard that when the gallant and respected 
Abercrombie, since dead in the field of honor, was sent to 
command the army in Ireland, he found it impossible to make 
head against so much crime and anarchy. jThe combined 
efforts of Clare and Carhampton, and the weakness of what 
they called a strong government, had driven the whole peo- 



32 MEMOIRS OF 

pie to rebellion, and made enemies of almost every honest 
man. The old and respectable magistrates, men of proper- 
ty and reputation in the country, were struck out of the 
commission of the peace, and foreign mercenaries put into 
it. The population of whole districts were swept without 
remorse on board tenders and prison ships; and fathers of 
families torn from their poor and peaceful cottages, to be 
sent on board the British fleet, where the tale of their bitter 
and just complaint was to form the leaven of that fearful 
event so aptly called Carhampton's mutiny; and which was 
like to have cost the king of England more than the violence 
of a million of such men, with their strong governments, 
could ever do him good. Weak men, they had not minds to 
conceive that the only strong government is that which is 
strong in the confidence and security of the people governed. 
They called these crimes, dictated by their own petty pas- 
sions, by the name of i6 vigor beyond the law." So Robbes- 
piere called his. In short, he and his associates seemed in 
every thing, except sincerity, to be their model. The dif- 
ference was, that his cruelties fell chiefly on the rich and 
great; theirs afflicted the humble and the poor. The elo. 
quence of Europe has been exhausted in reprobating his 
crimes. The mention of theirs, is still treason and death. 
Alas! the advocates of the poor are few, and their reward is 
ruin. To celebrate successful villany, is the sure road to 
gain and to preferment. Had I been capable of stooping to 
such baseness, instead of opposing myself to the unparallel- 
ed oppression of my countrymen, those who have persecuted 
me, know, in their own hearts, how open the road of fortune 
was to me. But nature and a virtuous education had made 
me differently, and if my conduct has been criminal, I own 
I am incorrigible; for,, with all the time and reason I have 



WIIXIAM SAMPSON. aS 

had for sober reflection, I cannot see in what essential cir- 
cumstance I could better discharge the duties I owe to Cod* 
to my fellow creatures and to myself. Prudence might pos- 
sibly, were the same events to recur, dictate some safer 
course; but virtue could offer nothing more pure. Nor have 
I been the dupe of any deceitful hope or passion. I saw but 
too clearly from the first, how, in such a state of things, in 
attempting to do good, one must expose one's self to mis- 
chief; and it is to that settled principle I owe the courage 
which has been my safety and consolation through so many 
trials. If it were otherwise, and that I could suppose my 
conduct criminal, 1 know of but one way of future remedy 
for all sucfi evils; that is, that we should hereafter educate 
our offspring in the contempt of what is generous and honest. 
You have children, my friend, and so have I. Shall we cal- 
culate, that the times to come, will always resemble those we 
have seen? Shall we, judging by such example, train up 
their tender minds in calculating profligacy? Shall we sti- 
fle, in its birth, every generous feeling of compassion and 
humanity? Shall we teach them to mock at the love of 
their country? Shall we teach them the cant and outward 
form of a pure religion of equality and justice; but at the 
same time inure them to plunder and to murder in the 
name of that religion? Shall we give them early lessons, 
that restraints are only for the vulgar and that lie, who 
does not prefer his avarice and ambition to every other 
consideration, is a fool; and if he is inflexible against se- 
duction, he should be hunted as a traitor?— -Were these con- 
siderations rigorously pursued, how far would they not 
lead? further, I fear, than is for your happiness or mine B 
Let us rather encourage the hope, that crime will not al- 
ways triumph, and justice may yet return: that our off*- 



o4 MEMOIRS 0± 

spring may be honest, and yet be happy .And let me for the 
present resume the thread of this extraordinary narrative. 

I have mentioned, that Sir Ralph Abercrombie had been 
obliged to abdicate the command of the army in Ireland. I 
am not obliged to conjecture what his reasons were. He 
frankly and consistently with his manly character publish- 
ed them in one short sentence, where he said that this fa- 
mous army of Carhampton "had become contemptible to Us 
enemies, and formidable only to its friends." And true his 
words did prove, when the half naked peasants of a few 
counties of Ireland, without arms or ammunition, or any 
other leaders than those there was not wisdom to deprive 
them of, their misery and their despair could wage war and 
gain victories over the most costly army of Europe. 

Lord Cornwallis, something wiser than his predecessors, 
or at least unactuated by party spite, saw how nearly all 
was lost, and formed a better plan. He shut up the houses 
of torture. He forbade pitched caps to be burned on men's 
heads. He put an end, in a great measure, to the ravish* 
ing of women and the killing or whipping of Irishmen for 
sport. He interdicted half hanging to extort confessions. 
He put a stop to much of the petty -fogging and chicaning 
part of the administration; and he offered pardon and pro- 
tection to such as would lay down their arms and return to 
their homes. But unhappily, whether it was that the fac- 
tion were too strong for him and wished to blacken him as 
faithless and disloyal, and to gratify their jealousy by 
thwarting his measures, certain it is that many had no 
sooner laid down their arms, than they were murdered de- 
fenceless, and in one instance particularly, the massacre of 
Glencoe was acted over on the Curragh of Kildare. — (See 
Appendix, JVb, II. ) 



WILLIAM SAMPS OR. Sb 

It was but justice, however, to this nobleman, to relate 
one instance in which he asserted his dignity with true 
energy. Two yeomen, so they called themselves,,. had 
gone to the house of a poor widow; whilst one guarded the 
door, the other went in, dragged a young boy from Iris sick 
bed, and in contempt even of a protection which he had re- 
ceived from the government, shot the son in the arms of his 
mother. The culprit, on his trial, avowed the fact; and an- 
"daciously called upon several officers to justify him under 
military orders, and to depose upon their oaths that whal 
he did was his duty. And in their sense so it certainly 
was, and he was readily acquitted. But lord Co'rmvallil 
saw it differently, and ordered his disapprobation of the sen- 
tence to be read in open court, to lord Enniskelleu, the presi- 
dent, and the oilier officers composing the court martial; dis- 
qualifying them forever from setting on any other court 
martial, and the yeoman from ever serving the king. And 
this, as it was strongly stated, in his order published offt* 
cially in the news-papers, "for having acquitted, ivithout 
any pretext, a man guilty upon the clearest and uncontradicted 
evidence of a wilful and deliberate murder. 99 . Perhaps you 
will wonder that I should state this fact as any thing extra- 
ordinary: you will be surprised, possibly, to hear that any 
country, where the British constitution was professed, 
should be in such a state of wretchedness, that an act of 
justice, no stronger than the punishment of murder and mis- 
prison by a reprimand, should excite fr.rious animosity on 
one side, and transports of admiration on the other. But 
so long had the reign of terror lasted, that the very men- 
lion of bringing any of this faction to justice, was looked 
upon by the rest, as an insolent encroachment upon their 
Murderous prerogatives* Nor would this stoi$.1iav€ 



38' MEMOIRS O* 

ever known either to lord Cornwallis or the public, more 
than to thousands of others buried with the victims in the 
grave, had it not been for the accidental protection afford- 
ed to this poor widow, by a lady of fortune and fashion—- 
Mrs, Latouche. 



JLETTER IV. 



Negotiation — Byrne — Bond* 

AFTER several months of cruel and secret im- 
prisonment, a Mr. Crawford, an attorney, was first per- 
mitted to break the spell of solitude, and enter my prison 
door. This gentleman had been employed in the defence 
of Mr. Bond, Mr. Byrne, and others, for whose fate I was 
much interested, and on this title introduced himself to my 
confidence. He descanted with ability upon the excellent 
views of the Marquis Cornwallis, so unlike his predeces- 
sors. He drew a strong picture of the unhappy state of 
the country, and proposed to me, as to one free from even 
the pretence of accusation; but one, he was pleased to say, 
whose character might inspire confidence, to become the 
instrument of a pacification, and to promote a reconcilia- 
tion between the government and the state prisoners; which 
could not fail, he said, to end in the general good of the 
people and save the lives of many thousands. 

I, though neither chief nor leader of a party, nor in any 
way connected with responsibility, was yet too warm a 
friend to the peace and union of my country, and to gene- 



WIXJ.IAM SAMPSON. 37 

tel humanity, to be inaccessible to such a proposition. 
But I little thought my compliance was to lead to all the 
injuries and atrocities I have since been loaded with, I 
confined myself, however, to advising this gentleman ra- 
ther to apply to some person more marking in politics than 
me, who might have more lead among the people, and more 
knowledge of their feelings or intentions. Mr. Crawford 
npon this obtained leave for Mr. Arthur O'Connor, then 
in secret in another part of the prison, to come to speak 
With me, which he did at my request; hut at this time re- 
fused taking any step. Nor did I ever meddle further in 
the business, than to recommend conciliation between the 
parties, and to intreat my kinsman, Mr. Dobbs, a member 
of the then parliament, to accept the office of mediator, 
merely because I knew him to be of a mild and benevolent 
disposition, and this was the actual commencement of that 
treaty so remarkable in itself and so strangely violated. 

It is foreign to my purpose to say by what steps the ne- 
gooiation proceeded; further than as a well-wisher to peace 
and humanity, it was considered by nobody to be any con- 
cern of mine. But I was for some time induced by appear- 
ances to suppose, that good faith and good understanding 
prevailed between the ministers and the people: and the 
day I was told was fixed for my enlargement, as one 
against whom no charge had ever been made. Upwards 
of seventy prisoners, against whom no evidence appeared, 
had signed an act of self-devotion, and peace was likely to 
he the result. There was so much courtesy, that I was 
more than once permitted to go out of the prison, where I 
had before been locked up in rigorous solitude, and to re- 
turn on my word. And Mr. 0' Conner, now in the Fort 
St George in Scotland, a close prisoner, was once on his 



38 MEMOIRS OF 

return from Kilmainham, where he had gone upon parofa> 
to see his fellow prisoners and colleagues in that negocia- 
tion, challenged by the centinels, and refused admission^ 
On one side, it appears by this, there was as much good 
faith as there has been cruel perfidy on the other. 

One day, as we were all together in the yard of the 
bridewell, it was announced that the scaffold was erected 
for the execution of William Byrne; the preservation of 
whose life had been a principal motive for the signature of 
many of the prisoners to the agreement abovementioned. 
We were all thunderstruck by such a piece of news: but I 
was the more affected when I learned, that Lord Cornwal- 
lis had been desirous of remitting the execution, but that 
the faction had overborne him in the council, by arguing 
that the agreement was ineffecth e, inasmuch as Mr. 0* 
Conner nor I had not signed it. In that moment I sent to 
Mr. Dobbs, to intrcat that he would hurry to the castle, and 
offer my signature, on condition that this execution should 
be suspended; but unhappily it was too late. The terror^ 
ists had surrounded the scaffold, and that brave youth was 
hurried, undaunted* to his death! This deed filled me with 
horror. I had never known any thing of William Byrne* 
until I had found means of conversing with him in our 
common prison. Through favor of Mr. Bush, once my 
friend, and then employed as his counsel, he obtained leave 
to consult with me on the subject of his trial; and certain- 
ly whatever can be conceived of noble courage, and pure 
and perfect heroism, he possessed. His life was offered 
him on condition that he would exculpate himself, at the 
expense of the reputation of the deceased lord Edward 
Fitzgerald; and the scorn with which he treated this offer 
was truly noble. Go, says he, to the herald of that odious 
proposition, and tell the tempter that sent you, that I have 
known no man superior to him you would calumniate, nor 



WILTilAM SAMPSON. 59 

none more base, than him who makes this offer. It is not 
necessary to be a partisan of lord Edward Fitzgerald, nor 
acquainted with the sufferings and oppressions of the un- 
fortunate Irish people, to feel the dignity of such a reply. 
One must be dead to the feelings of generosity, sacred even 
amongst enemies, not to be touched with it. The more so, 
when it is known, that this young man, who was but one 
and twenty years of age, was married to the woman that 
he loved, and had, within a few days, received a new 
pledge of fondness, and a new tie to life, in the birth of a 
first child. He had been loyally enrolled in a corps of 
volunteers, until the persecutions and horrors committed 
upon those of his persuasion, for he was of a Catholic fam- 
ily, drove him from the ranks of the persecutors into tike 
arms of rebellion. Had there been men less weak, and 
less wicked, in the government of Ireland; or a system of 
less inhumanity, he, with thousands now in exile or in the 
grave, would have been its boast and ornament, and the 
foremost in virtue and in courage to defend it. 

By the death of William Byrne, the work of blood 
seemed recommenced, and the life of Oliver Bond was next 
threatened. I had much friendship for this man, and great 
respect for his virtues. He had already suffered much 
from persecution, and borne it with great fortitude. He 
was generally esteemed for his good morals, beloved by 
his friends, and respected even by his enemies. I had of- 
ten partaken of his hospitality, and seen him happy amidst 
his family. He was now under sentence of death, which 
he seemed himself to despise. His virtuous wife appeared 
to me in my prison; and though she did not venture to 
urge me, her silent looks were irresistible persuasion. It 
might depend upon my consent whether she were to-mor- 
row a widow or a wife. Whether her poor babes were to 
be restored to the smiles of a fond father, or be fatherless. 



40 MEMOIRS 01 

The deep regret I had for the fate of William Byrne, 
rushed full into my mind, and I determined to make that 
sacrifice which must ever please upon reflection. My bad 
health, indeed, at that moment lessened the price I had to 
give; my life was entirely despaired of by my friends. 
Yet this friend died a few days after, unaccountably, in 
his prison, whilst I, after a series of unexambled persecu- 
Hon, live to tell his story and my own* 



LETTER V. 

Case stated — Union-. 

WITH respect to the other prisoners, every one of 
them seemed to treat death and danger with contempt. 
The memorial drawn up by three of them in their own 
justification and that of their cause, has already been in 
print, as well as the interrogatories and answers of sucb 
of them as were examined before the- committee, touching 
the intended resistance and arming of the country. To 
these things I was a stranger, further than this, that I was 
an enemy to violation and torture; and determined on all 
occasions that offered to resist it, which I always openly 
declared. By the agreement I had signed the ministers 
were entitled to examine me, if they thought proper. But 
for the same reasons that they did not try me, they did not 
examine me. They knew that it would tend, not to their 
advantage, but to mine. As to the alliance with France, 
I knew it first by the ministerial publications, and they had 
so often asserted it when it was not true, that I, with many 
ethers, disbelieved it even after it was so. But I saw 



WILLIAM SAMPSON. 41 

crimes with my own eyes, to which, to submit, would be 
degrading to the name of man, and for not submitting to 
which, I am now an exile. 

You will expect, perhaps, some distinct accounts of these 
transactions; but for this, I should rather refer you to the 
publications where it is to be found. 

A principal one is the memoir of the three state prison- 
ers, Emmet, M'Neven, and O' Connor, f 

This statement appears full of strength and candor, and 
it was curious to observe at the time, that whatever merit 
the ministers made to the crown of their discoveries, they 
Seemed to shrink entirely from the publication of them, 
whilst the prisoners insisted upon their avowals being pub- 
lished, as the undisguised and unstudied justification of 
their cause. 

Much turned upon points of chronology: for, however 
great the causes and the feelings of general discontent 
were; whatever the long endured griefs of Ireland had 
been; whatever some individuals might have meditated, 
none of the persons in question, nor lord Edward Fitz- 
gerald, nor others of whom so much has been said, were of 
the united system, nor was there any military organization 
formed until after the summer of 1796: previous to this, the 
persecution of the Catholics in Armagh, and the neighbor- 
ing counties; the adoption and protection of the Orange- 
men; the passing of penal acts of such extreme severity, 
and the cruel execution of them; and particularly the insur- 
rection act, which amounted in itself to as complete a revo- 
lution as if the king had been deposed, or had abdicated^ 
had all taken place. Until these times, if the British con- 

t See the pieces of Irish history, lately published by Dr.* 
William James M'Nevin, p. 207, 



4*: MEx\IOIRS OB 

stitution had not been practised in Ireland, it had been at 
least professed, particularly since its nominal indepen- 
dence had been guaranteed by the king and parliament. 
I neeA not tell you, that the essence of that constitution is, 
that men should be tried by juries of their fellow-citizens, 
their peers; and by the law of the land; and in no arbitra- 
ry manner deprived of life, liberty or property. If it be 
not this, it is nothing but a shadow or a sound. But by 
this revolutionary act, proclamations were to stand for 
laws. And justices of the peace, often foreign mercenary 
soldiers, were to take place of juries, and had the power of 
proclaiming counties and districts out of the king's peace. 
Horrible and barbarous sentence! These justices were 
made and cashiered by the breath of lord Clare, a man vio- 
lent and vindictive. And if ever in better times the list of 
tfeese justices comes to be enquired into, it will be found of 
such a complexion as to be of itself an ample comment upon 
the spirit of the parliament, and those who had the dominion 
over it. Perhaps I shall, at some other time, when I have 
concluded this narrative, send you an abstract of this and 
Ihe other laws and proclamations which fomented this re- 
bellion. But it would too much impede the course of that 
which you alone have asked of me, my own particular his* 
lory. At present I shall barely observe, that the minis- 
ters who made a merit of having hastened the rebellion by 
their cruelties, might, without much violence of conjecture, 
be presumed to have planned it. The suppressing, by the 
bayonet, of the county meetings, assembled for the constitu- 
tional purposes of petitioning the king, is another strong 
proof that they had done what they feared to have made 
known; and the dungeoning the prisoners, to whose emi- 
gration they had agreed, is another as strong. To revo- 



WIIXIAM SAMPSON. 45 

lutionize their country, was a crime in them; but it would 
have been less so to avow their approbation of the project- 
ed union, than first to have invoked heaven to witness that 
they would consent to no change of their constitution; then 
to put nine-tenths of their Countrymen under the ban t)f the 
most diabolical proscription. To have introduced torture, 
into their native country, and finished by promoting what 
they had sworn never to endure. 

Such was the faction that ruled the parliament of Ire> 
land. Such was that degraded parliament itself. All the 
public records of history or of law; all the votes, procla- 
mations, addresses; all the acts of parliament, and they 
are the most wonderful ever yet seen; alt the reports of 
committees, secret or open, go to prove, that the evil still 
increased as their ignorant and vicious remedies were 
applied. It could not therefore be otherwise than a labor- 
ed point on their side; and it is easily explained why they 
so much dreaded and do dread to this day, that the truth 
should escape out of bondage. 

It is doubtless for this reason that the state prisoners are 
still shut up in Fort St. George, contrary to an agreement 
made near four years ago,f that they should go abroad* 
Perhaps it was for no other reason that the petitions of the 
people were prevented from approaching the throne. And 
the peaceable petitioners are assembled under every regula- 
tion of strict law, treasonably dispersed by the bayonet. 
And that printers were imprisoned or assassinated, and 
their houses wrecked or burned. Mr. 0' Conner, in his 
letter to lord Castlereagh, dated from his prison, states, 
that his evidence, written and verbal, contained a hundred 

f These letters were written several years since in France^ 
rdien the prisoners were still in custody. 



44 MEMOIRS Qi 

pages, out of which one only was published, and ninety-nine 
suppressed. For my own part, my interest, my connections 
and my hopes, lay decidedly with the court party, rather 
than the people. It certainly was nothing but the convic- 
tion of the great oppression of my country, which is written 
in so plain a hand that every eye can read it, that could 
have engaged me to take any part. But in the course of 
my profession of an advocate, I have been a witness of sys- 
tematic outrage, such as I once thought had forever disap- 
peared with the past ages of barbarity. I have, in this res- 
pect, as in every other, endeavored to discharge my duty 
with honor and fidelity; and I have been no otherwise than 
I had foreseen, the victim of that duty and that native ab- 
horrence which I have of crime. It may be said, however> 
that if there were horrors on one side, there were crimes 
also on the other. I do not say the contrary. Oppression 
ever generates crimes; and if those who enjoy, in the social 
scheme, wealth, rank and power, are not contented with- 
out trampling on the common rights of their fellow-citizens, 
they must ever live in the fear of bitter retaliation* Let 
me now ask any man, from whatever quarter of the world, 
who has at any time chanced to visit my country, and to 
witness its position: let me challenge him who has ever 
read its history, to say whether, in any civilized region of 
the world, there exists a system of greater misgovernment 
and cruelty; or a country so formed by the hand of nature 
for the choicest happiness, where there is such an accumu- 
lated weight of misery. If any crimes have been commit- 
ted, and doubtless there must have been, it is to this cause 
that they are* due. I may be supposed partial to my coun- 
trymen, and I am not ashamed of being so. But I do think, 
that there is no where a people on the earth capable,- with 



Villi am sampson* 45 

&1I their faults upon their heads, of more exalted virtues 
Ardor, generosity of heart, industry and courage, deserve 
a higher rank amongst the people of the earth, however 
long and systematic oppression may have labored, in some 
respects too successfully, to degrade and vilify them. 

I feel myself the better qualified to speak in this behalf, 
as I have no need of justification for myself. No one hav- 
ing yet dared to mention any crime I have committed, at 
least in such a manner as to deserve an answer. When 
any person does so, I have a victorious answer. For, un- 
less it be a crime, as I have said, to resist rape and torture, 
has any one ever been able to fix the shadow of crime on 
me? The English ministry and their dependants, may 
applaud and glorify themselves for having, by a great 
stroke of policy, duped all parties in my country, and 
through our civil calamities, obtained their ends; but it is 
too bare-faced even for them to say, that it was criminal in 
us to try to keep our country independent and united. 

But to return to this point of history and fact, which is 
the hinge of the whole, and most important to be explained, 
The committee, finding that no alliance was formed until 
after the insurrection act; that the project of arming and 
resistance of a very recent date; and that the numbers and 
proselytes to the union had encreased in an equal ratio with 
the cruelties inflicted on the people; and that these cruelties 
had driven so many men of talents and consequence into 
the ranks; and that few of the present leaders were, until 
after these cruelties, so well calculated to act upon the con- 
sciences of virtuous men, in any way concerned with the 
system. This committee found it necessary to their inter- 
est, to steer dexterously round this point, and accordingly 
they had recourse to the opinions of Mr. Tone. He had 



46 MEMOIRS 01 

avowed frankly, Wore the tribunal met, to pass judgment 
of death upon him, ( See Appendix, JVo. III. J that he had 
meditated much upon the subject, and saw no redemption 
for his country, but in its separation from that one which 
held it in bondage. Now this reference to Mr. Tone's, 
opinion, challenged an obvious answer from those whose- 
justification might seem to require it. 

At the time that Mr. Jackson was sent from France, to 
get information of the condition and feelings of the people 
of England and Ireland, he addressed himself, amongst 
others, to Mr. Tone. This gentleman was supposed to 
have drawn up that acute statement read upon Jackson's 
trial, in which he made the true distinction between the 
feelings of the English and Irish people; not founded upon 
vague abstractions, or arbitrary conceits, but upon the 
solid ground of their different moral and physical existence^ 
He shewed, that the mass of the Irish people were in that 
state that rendered all nations most fit for rebellion and 
for war. That the people of England, whatever grievance* 
they had, were more respected, less oppressed, and less 
insulted. That it might be presumed, the Irish would 
gladly embrace deliverance from any hand, but that the 
English people were not yet at that point. I only from 
memory undertake to give you some lines of this paper; I 
remember it the rather from having been employed on the 
trial of Mr. Jackson, and having published it verbally from 
shout hand notes. I knew very little of Mr. Tone; and 
had only, until then, had occasion to admire him as a man 
of engaging and amiable qualities. It remained for the 
vicious administrations in Ireland to do justice to the po* 
litical sagacity with which he calculated upon their mis- 
government and the misery of the people; and to increase 



WliilAM SAMF30X. 47 

Ms partizans from perhaps half a dozen speculative politi- 
cians, which he might have had at first, to six hundred 
thousand fighting men, if we may believe the assertion of 
the minister lord Castlereagh. 

But it is said we are now united with England, and 
such questions should be buried in oblivion. I deny the 
fact. One step towards that union is certainly gained; 
the consent of England! Whether Ireland may consent I 
do not know. I am far from taking upon me to say the 
contrary. But before that can be known, the nation must 
be let out of prison, or recalled from banishment, and 
fairly treated with. If we reap no other benefit than 
whips, racks, and house-burnings, free quarters and mar- 
tial law. If there be no tenderer mode of wooing us than 
this adopted, I have no scruple to protest against it as a 
frightful treason, and a blood-stained union. We may be 
obliged to submit, as we have heretofore done; we may be 
governed by force, as we have been heretofore governed; 
but we shall not have consented to this match of force, and 
the people of Ireland may yet fly to the only consolation 
left them, union amongst themselves; and grown wiser by 
past errors, learn to pardon and forget; and instead of 
looking back to causes of endless quarrel, look forward 
with courage and with hope. 

Certainly never union was formed under more imen- 
gaging auspices. First, divisions were sown amongst the 
ignorant upon the old pretext, religion, of which those that 
scorn all religion, ever avail themselves. In the county 
of Armagh, where this horror was first set on foot, it was 
carried to such a pitch, that lord Gosfort, the governor of 
the county, proclaimed, in an address to the magistrates, 
that justice had slept in the county, and that more than 



43 MEMOIRS or 

seven hundred families had heen turned out houseless and 
naked to seek for an habitation, and wander, unprotected, 
exposed to the merciless rancour of their oppressors; and 
that, during the most inclement season of the year, for no 
other crime than that of professing the Roman Catholic faith, 
the religion of their forefathers. ( See Appendix, JVfo. IV. J 
As long as there was a shadow of protection by law, I 
labored to obtain justice for those sufferers, and they were 
many, who confided their cases to me, in the way of my 
profession. I once, joined with Mr. Emmet, now in Fort 
George, had the satisfaction of procuring an apparent sign 
of justice in the conviction of a magistrate, who, for his 
partiality and wanton cruelty, was sentenced to six months 
imprisonment in Newgate, which he underwent. But as 
the plot took consistency, this shew of justice was revoked. 
Juries were altogether discontinued, and lest any more 
criminals should be disquieted for their deeds, or any cen- 
sure or scandal should follow injustice, bills of indemnity 
were passed, the magistrate in question was rewarded 
with a place, soldiers were set to do the work of jurors, 
terror and butchery were organised, and at length the 
people were driven into the project of arming for their de- 
fence, and that alliance was finally formed, of which it is 
not my concern to say any thing further; but which, had 
there been common justice in the country, never would 
}*ave happened. 



WILLIAM SAMPSOtf, 49 



LETTER VI* 

Treachery. 

IT would be going too far to say, without proofs, 
that the governing faction wished for this alliance with 
the French, which, however lightly it may now be treated, 
was capable, but for some accidents of a precarious nature, 
of wresting this country from the dominion of the British 
monarch. But either upon the ground of intention or 
misconduct, they certainly are responsible for it. Howev- 
er, the miscarriage of that scheme gave them such power* 
that it was in vain any longer to make head against them. 
The most barbarous crimes they committed were sane- 
tioned by the name of loyalty ; and as they were masters 
of every organ of the public voice, and their opposers 
dumb, it is not wonderful that not only those of foreign 
countries are ignorant of their cruelties, but that the peo- 
ple of Great-Britain are likewise so. And what is more, 
the very actors in these scenes are yet to learn the arts by 
which they were duped into deeds, whereupon, hereafter, 
they will look back with remorse; unless, indeed, that ca- 
tastrophe, that union which they were ignorantly promot- 
ing, has at length, though late, opened their eyes and 
awakened their judgments. 

I know that as often as the cruelties are mentioned, the 
excesses committed by the people in rebellion, will be cited 
to justify them. I think it is a poor whitewash of men's 
reputation, that others have committed crimes: nor will 





50 memoirs ov 

any reasonable being expect, that where the example of 
dissoluteness and cruelty is set by those who hold the 
greatest advantages in society; when they, to whom the 
laws have guaranteed riches and power, are imprudent, as 
well as wicked enough to set those laws at defiance; it is 
ioo much to expect, with such an example before them, the 
virtue of angels, or the meekness of lambs, from the igno- 
rant and oppressed. It is true, the founder of the best re- 
ligion has ordered his disciples, when smote on one cheek 
to turn the other. But from the day that he said so, until 
this that I now write to you, I never heard of any people 
that conformed to that injunction. At all events, I am 
happily a stranger to all the crimes committed on one side 
and the other; and in this respect can speak with impartiali- 
ty. And now, before I quit these points which it was ne- 
cessary to explain, I shall state a profligate breach of 
honor, which stands naked and unexcused by any pretext 
of reason, policy, or prudence, and for which no man living, 
I should suppose, will pretend to offer an excuse; a perfidy 
of which I clearly have a right to speak most boldly, having 
been myself the dupe and the victim of it. 

The agreement which I signed in common with the other 
prisoners, from the pure, and I think I may without vani- 
ty say, the generous motives above stated, imported in ex- 
press terms, that we the subscribers should emigrate, suck 
was the word, to such country not at war with Great-Bri- 
tain, as should be agreed upon, taking with us our families 
and our property. The prisoners, to use lord Castle- 
reagh's words to doctor M'Nevin, had honorably fulfilled 
their part of this agreement, and this lord assured them, 
the government would religiously fulfil its part. Lord 
Clare also used these emphatical words to Mr. O'Connor: 



WIIXIAM SAMPSON. 51 

« Mr. O'Connor, says he, it comes to this, either the govern- 
ment must trust you, or you must trust if; and the gov* 
ernment that could violate an engagement so solemnly 
entered into, could neither stand, nor deserve to stand.'" 
In this, certainly lord Clare said truly: but never were 
more true words followed by more treacherous actions. 
This agreement was violated, and these gentlemen are still 
in prison. 

For my part, it ws s upon the honor of lord Cornwall!??, 
that I relied, and not upon the assertions of this junto 
They never, I must confess, deceived me, for I never 
trusted them. How far the sequel will remain a blot upon 
the name of Cornwallis, I leave to his own feelings to 
decide. 

It only rested for me, after the voluntary sacrifice I had 
made, to act with fortitude, and without asking any favor, 
to leave my ill-fated country, where atrocity led to honor, 
and virtue to the scaffold; and to fix upon some other, 
where I could retire in peace and safety. But what was 
my surprise, when I was informed, that I should be allowed 
to go to no country in Europe. Some time before, it was 
asserted, that the minister of the United States had de- 
clared, that the prisoners would not be admitted to take 
refuge in America. Thomas Jefferson had not then pro- 
nounced those words, honoring himself and his country: 
shall there be no where an asylum on the earth for perse- 
cuted humanity; and shall we refuse to the children of 
oppression, that shelter which the natives of the woods 
accorded to our fathers? 

It had been recommended to me to go to Portugal, on ac- 
count of my ruined health; and that country being governed 
£y England, seemed least liable of any to objection from the 



52 Memoirs or 

government; and my own intentions were, to abide faithful- 
ly by the agreement I had consented to: so I could not even 
in imagination, figure to myself the possibility of the dis- 
graceful proceedings which have since taken place: I 
therefore asked permission to go to Portugal, and this rea- 
sonable request was no sooner made than refused. Hap- 
pily I had a friend whose heart was warm and honest, and 
whose courage and firmness in the cause of honor, was well 
known in his youth, and seemed but to increase with his 
years. This was Mr. Montgomery, the member for the 
county of which I was a native. He was an old friend and 
fellow-soldier of lord Cornwallis, and brother of Mont- 
gomery, the hero of Quebec. He took upon him to stem 
this torrent of persecution; and, after much difficulty, made 
his way to the viceroj, through the phalanx of lords and 
bishops that besieged him. He represented to him the 
dangerous state of my health; the sacred manner in which 
his honor was pledged to me; the cruel denial of justice or 
trial; the torture of my servant, and my secret imprison- 
ment. All this he represented with so much effect, that I 
Was immediately favored with the following letter: 



To Counsellor Sampson, Bridewell. 

Lord Castlereagh presents his compliments to 
Sh\ Sampson. He has the lord lieutenant's directions to 
acquaint him, that he may go to Portugal, as his health is 
said to require it, on condition of giving security to remain 
there during the war, unless ordered away by that govern- 
ment. 



Castle, Tuesday. 



WILLIAM SAMPSON. g$ 

I tlr'nk, my dear friend, I cannot now do better than 
-finish this letter, and give you and myself an opportunity 
of reposing. For though you might suppose the malice 
of my enemies by this time pretty nearly exhausted, yet 
ypw will find on the contrary, that my persecution was but 
beginning, and you will have need of all your patience to 
listen to the rest.— Farewell, 



LETTER VII, 

(Jhicaiie—Lie by Ad of Parliament — Lord Castlereagh* 

ONE would have hoped, that all difficulty was now 
over. One might have supposed, that rancor itself had 
been now assuaged. But on the contrary, every artifice 
of delay, and every refinement of chicanery was again put 
in practice, as if to torment me in revenge for the justice 
I had obtained from lord Cornwallis, and the part I had 
had in rescuing so many victims from the fury of their 
pursuers. Weeks and months passed away, so great a 
difficulty was made of drawing up a simple form of recog- 
nisance pursuant to lord Cornwallis' order; a thing so 
easy, had good faith been intended, that the meanest 
clerk of an attorney was as capable of doing it, as the 
first judge of the land. My brother and my brother-in- 
law, both fathers of families in remote parts of the coun- 
try, were all this time detained in the capital, and the 
reason given for this vexation was, that this famous in* 
atmment was to be a precedent for the cases of all the other 



54 MEMOIRS OF 

prisoners; and yet a principal part of those prisoners are 
now, at the d' stance of four years, in gaol; another instance 
of that -op plicated peridy to which I have been subjected. 

At length every hick o" malicious petty-fogging ex- 
hausted; my family rendered m' serai le, and my health 
almost ruined, I received from Mr. Marsden, a law se- 
cretary, the following note: 

" Mr. Marsden presents his cor pliments to Mr. Samp- 
son. He has been able to arrrnge finally with lord Cas- 
tlereagh, the terms which Mr. Sampson must comply with, 
previous to his sailing. 

"Mr. Marsden encloses a form of recognisance, which 
Mr. Sampson should execute. When that is done, th$re 
need be no other delay." 

Dublin Castle, October 4, 1738. 

With this note was sent a form of security, in which 
there was nothing remarkable, except the leaving out the 
words in lord CornwalLs's order, "unless ordered away by 
that government," 

If so many months had not been spent in planning this 
formality, namely, from the month of July, when I con- 
sented to sign the ag\ eement, until the month of October, 
when I was told I must comply or stay in prison, I should 
have thought nothing of this circumstance. Coupled with 
what has since happened, it seems to warrant the supposi- 
tion that it was predetermined I should be sent away from 
Portugal. For I remember it was once given as a reason 
for breaking faith with the prisoners, that no country 
would receive them. Much influence, and much intrigue 
was used to make that barbarous assertion true. And it 
vill be found by my case, that frustrated in that view, no 



WIMilAM SAMPSON. 5Z 

malevolent refinement was spared to pursue us wherever 
we should t ike reft ge. But let the sequel explain itself. 

I made no difficulty in subscribing it as it was ordered, 
and thereupon I received the following passport: 

Dublin Castle, Oct. 6, 1798. 

Permit William Sampson, Esq. to take his passage 
from the port of Dublin, to any port in the kingdom of 
Portugal, without hindrance or molestation. 

By order of his excellency the lord lieutenant of Ire- 
land. 

Castlereagh. 

To all port-officers, officers commanding^ 

his majesty's ships, and others whom £■ (SEAL.) 
it may concern. J 

And upon the back was written: "Mr. Sampson is to 
keep this passport in his possession." This, however, it 
will be seen, I was not always allowed to do. 

And on the same day, an order was sent for my en- 
largement, addressed to the keeper, with the following 
letter to my brother, by the private secretary of lord Cas- 
tlereagh: 

Dear Sampson, 

I SEND you an order, which I trust 
to you, though I know not whether the business is done or 
not. But I know you will not use it until you ought, and 
then you see by it that your brother goes without either 
guard or messenger. • When there is no need of painful 
steps, they will not be adopted by a government, which, J 



66 MEMOIRS 01' 

assure you, never wishes to be unnecessarily severe. I 
wjteh your brother happiness. 

Yours, 

Axexr. Knox, 

Now it will be for you to judge how very forbearing 
4his government was from painful steps. A bill was 
brought forward in parliament stating, or rather insinuat- 
ing in the preamble that I, with many others therein named, 
had confessed myself guilty of treason and implored for 
mercy. With more to that purpose, stated in the most 
extravagant language, and finally making it felony for any 
one to correspond with me. 

Now, so far from confessing treason, I was ready, had 
my persecutors dared to come to the trial, to have proved 
treason upon them, and thrown the accusation in their 
teeth. But they took good care of that, and never would give 
me the advantage of a trial, nor even an examination, nor 
any mode of explanation whatever: and, as to imploring 
their mercy, I would an hundred times sooner have im- 
plored for death. Here then was an assertion by act of 
parliament, of a gross and scandalous lie: but a lie that no- 
body dared to contradict, for it was a lie by act of parlia- 
ment; and parliament was omnipotent. And among the 
many scourges that this parliament had lately inflicted 
upon its bleeding country, was this: That they took upon 
them to imprison their fellow-citizens arbitrarily, for 
whatever they chose, in either house, to call a breach of 
privilege. So here, without law or truth, or. any sanction 
of justice, they had made assertions of the vilest malevo- 
lence, upon which were deliberately to be founded enactions 
of the most heinous terrorism, and there was not left to the 



wrrxiAM Sampson. 57 

Victims of tfus treachery, of whom I was one, any possible 
means of defence. Vile men, which of you can say now, 
at the distance of four years, what treason I confessed, or 
whose mercy I implored? It is true this parliament of fa- 
mous memory, soon after did justice on itself, and relieved 
the groaning country from its crimes! It had long been 
corrupt and morbid; but in its last convulsions, exceeded 
ail imagination, Witness the frantic abominations that it 
vomited forth upon the people! If any future historian should 
Collect those laws, and give them in their order, as a supple- 
ment to the former code of penal laws in Ireland, it would 
be a monument, at least of curiosity, perhaps of melancholy 
instruction. For amongst these laws, there were some 
exciting directly to murder; others indemnifying it. 
There were laws to promote kidnapping, and laws to sanc- 
tion it; laws to raise rebellion, and laws to put it down., 
To-day a proclamation that all was peace and loyalty; to- 
morrow a report that all was war and treason. To-day it 
was a few miscreants; to-morrow a general massacre. 
Sometimes it was atheism, sometimes delusion, and some- 
times popery. In fact every cause was held out but the 
true ones — oppression and ■mlsgovernment. So that, as 
their crude nostrums were encreased, the evil augmented. 
Every organ of complaint was choaked, and the nation be- 
came one general prison, and military power executed the 
decrees of individual malice. And those who had so often 
pledged their Hives and fortunes" against all innovations, 
at length threw off the mask: and after astonishing each 
other by the measure of their own impudence, finished by 
an act of desperate suicide. And to crown this deed, lord 
Castlereagh, who had pledged himself upon the hustings, 
an4 sworn to his constituents of the comity of Down, to 

H 



) 



j'6 MEMOIRS OF 

persevere in purifying and reforming this parliament, and 
to promote such acts as were most for its independence, 
was the first to cry fie upon it, and to stab. (See Appen- 
dix No. V.J Such was that man, who, by spurning at his 
own sacred engagements and practising every art of po- 
litical falsehood, first a demagogue and then a tyrant, 
had raised himself, with slender talents, to the place of 
secret ary of state, at a time when the suspension of the 
habeas corpus had given to that office the right of arbitrary 
imprisonment over all the kingdom. Such was the man 
upon whose mandate I was torn from my family for being 
"suspected" as it was expressed, "of treasonable practices" 
Alas! I may be suspected, but in his own case there is sure- 
ly no question of suspicion. May the moment when I 
prove but the hundredth part so much a traitor, be the mo- 
ment of my destruction. Is it not rank and foul, that the 
best men in any country should be at the mercy of those 
who make a public jest of truth and honor? When the 
wise and the just are ground into the earth, and the puni- 
est tilings that are, let them be but base and mischievous 
enough, are raised to power! 

I was now about to leave my prison, and to leave behind 
me those fellow-sufferers with whom my acquaintance had 
began in bridewell; but in none of whom I could ever trace 
a disposition to crime of any kind. They, one and all, 
seemed to be animated by an ardent desire of sacrificing 
their lives in the deliverance of their country, from what 
they conceived, I am sure too justly, to be oppression and 
tyranny. And their actions seemed to proceed from a 
thorough conviction that they were right. At all events, 
if this was an error, the proceedings which I have men- 
tioned, of house-burning, wrecking, ravishing, denial of 






WILLIAM SAMPSON. ,0 

justice, breaking of faith, half-hanging and scourging; 
dungeoning, kidnapping and picketing, and other torture 
to extort confessions; free quarters, religious proscriptions, 
martial law, and all of those execrable measures, of the 
horrors of which, no one who has not seen it, can have any 
idea. These proceedings surely were not calculated to 
cure them of their errors. 



LETTER VIII. 

Lovely Peggy — Lovely Mary — Shipwreck. 

THERE was now a small vessel ready to sail for 
Lisbon, called the Lovely Peggy, captain Knight; and it 
was stipulated that I should take my passage on board of 
her. On the same evening that I received the order to 
the gaoler to set me free, I lost not a moment in going to 
this captain, to make the necessary arrangements. And 
my faithful but unfortunate man, John Russel, followed 
after me, fearing perhaps some insult; for which act of 
zeal he was once more to pay dear, as you will see. 

It was on the night of the rejoicings for the victory of 
Lord Nelson; and many of the yeomanry were in disorder 
through the streets. There was a group squibhing off 
cartridges on the flaggs in Abbey street, through which I 
was to pass; and one of them taking offence, that we wore 
our hair short, called out, "croppies" which was their 
Word of attack; and just as we passed, fired a blunt car- 
tridge into John's shoulder, I paid no attention to the shot- 



60 MEMOIRS OF 

not knowing what Lad happened; and I had now a fresh 
proof of the magnanimity of my unfortunate companion; 
for he never disclosed what had happened until we were at 
a considerable distance, fearing, and justly, that my pa- 
tience might not have been proof against such atrocity: 
but when at length he thought it time to discover the 
wound he had received, I went with him into a shop to 
examine it, and found that his clothes had been pierced 
through, and the point of the cartridge forced into the 
very bone. The contusion was attended with violent 
swelling, and the pain doubtless aggravated extremely, by 
the quantity of unburn ed gunpowder which was buried in 
his flesh. Such was the event of the first ten minutes of 
my liberty; after a seclusion of so many months. At 
least, it was well calculated to cure me of any regret I 
might have at leaving my native country, which I had 
loved but too well, and where I could boast certainly, that 
the esteem of my fellow-citizens was a great part of my 
rime. Having thus once more escaped assassination, a 
fate I have not been unfrequently threatened with, we re- 
turned to bridewell; where, with my wife, I spent the last 
evening in the society of my fellow-sufferers. 

The following day I had occasion to buy a number of 
things in the shops, and also to go to the custom-house for 
a paper called a bill of health; but was no sooner return- 
ed to my lodgings, than my brother came to tell me, that 
the castle was crouded with persons flocking there to com- 
plain of my being suffered to appear in the streets. A 
strange instance, at once, of the meanness and impudence 
of that faction, and of the extent to which injustice had de- 
graded the government of that hapless country. Mr. 
Knox accused my brother ef an abuse of confidence, in 



WII&IAM SAM* SON". 61 

trusting me with the order for my enlargement, without 
restraining me from such an open act of defiance as that 
of appearing in the streets. I confess, that much as I had 
seen, and much as I had heard, and much as I had felt, I 
was not without astonishment at such pertenacious extrav- 
agance. But so it is, that when men have been for a 
length of time actuated by party spirit, still more by ter- 
ror, which entirely takes away the understanding, they 
no longer perceive what is right or what is wrong; what 
is decent or what is unbecoming. And in this abandon- 
ment of their judgment, and even of their senses, they ral- 
ly to the first absurdity that wears the colour of their pre- 
judices; and when it comes to that, it is as great madness 
on the other side to expect any thing from reason. The 
only remedy then to be hoped is, from time that tries all 
opinions. My brother told me, that it was desired by his 
friend, that I should write to excuse myself for having- 
been seen in the streets; and, as he had every title to my 
compliance that an affectionate brother and a sincere 
friend could have, I acquiesced without hesitation in the 
following maimer us nearly as I can remember: I men- 
tioned that it was in consequence of an order to come out 
of prison, that I appeared in the streets; there being no 
other way of coming out of prison than through the 
streets; and that it was the more necessary, as having 
engaged to go immediately abroad, I was obliged to pro- 
tide myself instantly with what was necessary for my de- 
parture. That I was sure the government was powerful 
enough to guarantee its own order; but if it were other- 
wise, and that it would condescend to accept of my sup- 
port, which I had now the honor of offering for the first 
time, I would defend the agreement it had made with me^ 



MEMOIRS 01 

and the order given for my liberation, with both nvy 
hands, against whoever should dare to stop me; and that* 
without giving the government the trouble of interfering 
in the least, I do not know whether this note was pleas- 
ing or otherwise, but I heard no more of the matter; and r 
by my brother's desire, I seldom went out afterwards but 
in a carriage, and that towards dinner hour, although I 
was at liberty for near two months, during which time I 
made, as you will see, four unsuccessful attempts to leave 
my enemies behind me. 

It is incredible how much I suffered during the greatest 
part of the months of October and November. Four dif- 
ferent times I went to sea, and was as often driven back 
by furious gales of wind into the same harbor. The ves- 
sel was very small and deeply laden. In the cabin I could 
not be upright, and on the deck it was always wet. This 
with the sea sickness and my habitual ill health, brought 
me back each time to my family more like a spectre 
than a living man. At length I was utterly unable to pro- 
ceed; and it was, but not without much harshness, agreed 

that I should wait a few days for another vessel going out 

to Oporto. This was a brig called the Lovely Mary. The 
Lovely Peggy went the fifth time without me, and was 
captured by the Spaniards. 

During all this season the weather was so tempestuous* 
that our coasts were covered with wrecks. 

There was an interval of some days between the quitting 
of the Peggy and embarking in the Mary, that I spent in 
p^ace in the bosom of my family. But the genius of per- 
secution could not tolerate this: and the town-major, Mr. 
Sirr, was sent by lord Castlereagh to inform me, that I 
must go back to bridewell. The vessel was at this tim& 



WIIXIAM SAMPSON. i , 

ready and only waiting for a wind. At the moment that 
this officer entered, armed with a case of pistols and a 
dagger stuck in his girdle, I was in the act of making up 
my trunks to embark. My wife was lending her assist- 
ance, and my children were playing on the floor. This 
major Sirrf is a gentleman by no means celebrated for 
delicacy or gentleness in the city from which he derives 
his office. But I will do him the justice to say, that on 
this occasion he seemed to have some feelings of compunc. 
tion for the mission he was charged with. He consented 
and even proposed to wait until I should write to the cat- 
tle, and state that I was already preparing to go on board 
the ship. It was necessary to send twice, the person to 
whom my first letter was addressed being absent: and all 
that time he remained standing in a window, as for some 
reason or other he refused to sit down. An answer came 
directed to him from lord Castlercagh, and he only asked 
me to pledge my word that I would go on board that eve- 
ning, and took his kave. 

I accordingly went to live on board this vessel, but the 
wind continued unfavorable, and the weather so tempestu- 
ous, that several ships were driven ashore, even in the 
harbor. During this time I had no other means of con- 
versing with my wife, than by stealing up at night, and 
returning before day light on board,- and this not without 
risque, as one night a man was assassinated by the mili- 
tary on the road where I had to pass. Such was the pro- 
ceeding of that government which was "so unwilling to 
resort to painful steps!*' 

t For a better account of him, see Mr. Curran's speech on 
the trial of Hevey: he is now high sheriff of the city of Dub- 
Un IS! 



04 MEMOIRS OE 

At length, on the 24th. October, as well as I can recol- 
lect, the captain was ordered against his will to sea, and 
on the 2rth. we were stranded on the coast of North Wales, 
on the extreme point of Carnarvonshire, near the small 
portofPullhelly. 

Having got so far, give me leave again to pause, that 
you may have some time to repose, and I be the better 
able to resume my story. 



XETTER IX. 



Ancient Britons — Duke of Portland. 

BY a curious whim of fortune, the soil on which 1 
was now to look for hospitality was the identical country 
of those ancient Britons, who had been made the blind in- 
struments of so many crimes against the Irish, and which 
they finally expiated with their lives. They had been 
taken from their mountains and their ploughs, and enflam- 
ed by every artifice against their unfortunate fellow -sub* 
jecis in Ireland, with whom they could possibly have no 
quarrel. For it is worthy of note, that besides the faction 
in our own country, the principal part of those employed 
in making war upon the Irish, were the mountaineers of 
Scotland and Wales, and also Hessians; who, not knowing 
the English language nor the ancient language still spoken 
by many of the Irish, were inaccessible to all remonstrance 
and less liable to be softened by complaint, or enlightened 
by expostulation^ or i# any way made sensible of the criw 



WILLIAM SAMPSON. 65 

eltics they were committing. Perhaps also their lives 
were held in less estimation than those of the English, and 
they were preferred in that service. 

So gross were the arts used to inflame these poor people, 
that one of the stories circulated among them was, if I 
have not been much deceived, "iliat the Irish were coming 
to eat them with a horn of salt." This, I confess, ap- 
pears an absurdity almost incredible. But the proofs I 
had to my own senses of the credulity of the people of this 
district, rendered me less difficult on that head. I will 
give you an instance of this. Of late years they have 
formed very numerous associations in nature of a religious 
sect, of which the principal and characteristic act of de- 
votion is jumping; and therefrom they are denominated 
jumpers. To this end they have built a vast number of 
chappels by voluntary subscription, where they preach by 
self-inspiration. The preachers are of all sexes and all 
ages and start forth spontaneously from among the con- 
gregation; so that I have seen a great number running 
about at a time preaching and sobbing and shedding tears, 
and wringing each others hands; whilst the lookers on 
seemed to catch in a fainter degree the same inspiration. 
As they preached in their vernacular tongue, I could not 
judge of their sermons otherwise than by their effects. I 
have seen many actually in convulsions; and old men on 
their knees making wry faces, and knawing the heads of 
their sticks and biting, in a kind of extacy, like a cat 
tickled on the crupper. The more young and vigorous 
jump up in the air, with their hands up clutching at the in- 
visible Lamb of the Lord. But particularly, I was told, 
at certain solemnities and stated times of the year, they as- 
semble in the towns and villages, and in the fields, and on 

i 



bD MEMOIRS OE 

the high roads. This is probably towards the festival of 
Easter, and then the whole country is engaged in the act 
of jumping; each as the caprice strikes, or sometimes alto- 
gether likefwj in the sea. I understand, since I have been 
in France, that this sect is much more extended than I 
then had any idea: and that it prevails equally in South as 
in North Wales. It was from a little girl that was sent 
from an hospitable farmer's house, to conduct me to the 
road, that I first learned the meaning of their jumping. I 
had gone into the cottage to ask my way and was without 
further introduction, invited to accept of country fare; and 
this little girl, who alone had learned English, served as 
my interpreter, and afterwards as my guide. I was 
charmed on this as on every other occasion, with the hos- 
pitality of this people: for it is but justice to say, that they, 
like my own countrymen, possess that noble virtue in a 
high degree. I wished to make some little compliment to 
the child, and as we walked along towards the great road 
I asked her if she ever came to Pullhelly, and if she would 
come and see me there? She answered that she came twice 
a week to the preaching, and that she would call and en- 
quire for me at Mr. Jones's. I asked her then if she was 
a jumper? and she said she was. I finally ventured to ask 
her what she jumped for, for in my country we had not yet 
learned that? And she replied with great simplicity, that 
she jumped for the Lamb. Would to God that so many of 
those poor people had been let to remain until this day 
jumping for the Lamb, instead of being brought over full 
of ignorant fury, of which they were hardly to be called 
guiliy, to burn the wretched cottages of the poor Irish, to 
torture, violate and murder, and in the end to pay the for- 
feit with their lives. Good God! will there never be a pe- 



WILLIAM SAMPSON. 67 

Hod of civilization, when humanity will emerge from dark- 
ness and barbarity? But it is time to quit this digression, 
and continue my story. 

Having with difficulty got to land, for which wc were 
much indebted to the courage and humanity of Mr. Robin- 
son, a clergyman in sight of whose house we were first 
stranded, and who came with some of his people in a row- 
boat to our assistance, we went to an inn kept by an ancient 
sea captain called Jones. Here there arrived on the fol- 
lowing morning the passengers of a packet-boat bound to 
Bristol, put in, damaged and dismasted by similar distress of 
weather. Between the passengers of both vessels our society 
was numerous, and enlivened by some pretty and amiable 
persons of the fair sex. Our fare was good though not 
sumptuous. We had a clean fire-side, and that cordial 
pleasure that arises from past toil. We had a harper to 
play to us at dinner, and we danced to his music in the 
evening. The next day we made our parties to wander on 
the strand and climb upon the rocks; and in this manner 
we passed several days which to me seemed short. But as^ 
the rest of his casual society went off in a few days, each 
to pursue his own particular destination, I was left to con- 
sider for myself. I had indeed perceived that calumny 
and terror had been before-hand with inc. Certain it is 
that my name seemed to have reached the shore before me, 
and I could see that I was eyed as an object of curiosity 
if not of horror. Many, I dare say, piqued themselves 
upon discovering in my features the indications of my 
bloody disposition; or in my structure, the signs of that 
atrocious force, by which I had been able to destroy with 
my own hand all the ancient British cavalry. And I dare 
say my name, so well suited to such a terrific illusion, was: 



68 MEMOIRS OF 

taken for something into the account. And all this was 
sustained by the ribaldry copied from the Irish faction 
prints; for I never could take up a news-paper without 
meeting some paragraph touching myself, in which there 
was only this one consistency, that of near a thousand 
which I have read from first to last, I can safely say 
there was not one that contained a syllable of truth. One 
only I shall take the trouble of citing, as explanatory of 
what is to follow. Its author, calculating upon what was 
doubtless preconcerted, but not foreseeing the frequent put- 
ting back of the Lovely Peggy nor the stranding of the 
Lovely Mary, took upon him in the true spirit of the party 
boldly to publish, that I had been refused admission into 
FortugaJ, and this at least three months before I went there! 
In my present extraordinary position it was necessary 
to come to some explanation. I therefore wrote to the 
duke of Portland, secretary of state, and also to lord 
Cornwallis. To the former I recapitulated all that had 
passed from the time I had written to him from Carlisle 
gaol, to request to be sent to trial. I told him of the con- 
stant denial of that justice; of the torture of my servant, 
and of the engagement I had so disinterestedly entered in- 
to with the government; and the unfair manner in which 
advantage had been taken of it; of the assertion that I had 
confessed treason, whereas I had never been allowed to 
speak: that in short I was ready if he chose, to go to Lon- 
don and convince him by irrefi agible proofs, that if there 
was treason, which I abhorred, it lay upon my accusers, 
and not with me. Had this offer been accepted, I should 
have had hopes, though late, of obtaining justice for my- 
self and perhaps of effecting some more general good. I 
think it was to lord Cornwallis that I mentioned a wish to 



WJIXJAM SAMPSON. 69 

remain where I now was; for I had already more than one 
good reason to forebode that I should not have fair play in 
Portugal. 

For more surety I addressed my letter to lord Cornwal- 
lis, to his private secretary, captain Taylor: and I had by 
return of post the following answer: 

Dublin Castle, Dec. 5, 1798. 
Sir, 

I am directed by lord Cornwallis to acquaint 
you, that your letter of the 2d. instant has been transmit- 
ted to the duke of Portland, and that a compliance with 
your request must rest entirely with the English govern- 
ment. 

I am, Sir, 

Four most obedient humble servant, 

H. Taylor. 

And from the duke of Portland I had the answer whick 
follows: 

White-Hall, Dec. 13, 1798. 
Sir, 

It was not in my power to answer your letter of 
the 28th November, before I had communicated with the 
lord lieutenant of Ireland on the subject of the request it 
contained. I have now to acquaint you that there is no 
objection either to your remaining at Pullhelly, until the 
vessel in which you arrived there shall be in a condition 
to prosecute her voyage', or to repair to Falmouth in or- 
der to proceed by the first packet to Lisbon. In case you 
should prefer the latter, I enclose a passport which may 
prevent your meeting with any difficulty on the road. 



$ MEMOIRS OF 

I must beg of you to inform me, by return of post, wheth* 
er you intend to remain at Pullhelly; and if you do, of the 
probable period which it may be necessary for you to wait 
before the vessel can sail. 
lam, Sir, 

Four most obedient humble servant, 

Portland. 

The passport enclosed with the above, you will find in 
an appendix, which it is my intention to subjoin; and in 
which I shall insert such other documents illustrative of 
this narrative, as I shall be able to obtain possession of be- 
fore it is closed. ( See Appendix, No. VI. J 

It was dated White-Hall. It was unlimited as to time. 

It literally empowered me to go from White Hall to Fal- 
mouth. The letter being silent as to my passing through 
London, seemed to leave it at my option, and I had once 
nearly formed that design. Meantime I had written to 
lord Moira, in whose hands I had deposited many authen- 
tic documents touching the barbarities committed on the 
Irish; and I now desired to have them in order if any op- 
portunity was allowed, to profit by the true light I could 
throw upon those affairs, and boldly to reclaim justice for 
myself and others at my own peril. 

You must have heard of lord Moira's motion in the Irish 
house of lords, founded upon these and numberless other 
documents, the truth of which was incontrovertible. Lord 
Moira certainly did state the facts of which he was pos- 
sessed much less energetically than might be expected 
from his eloquence and sensibility. It is possible that 
aiming at conciliation, he feared the too strong truth.; and 



WIMilAM S AMPS-OX,- 71 

his motion had little other effect than to bring upon him- 
self a torrent of vulgar abuse. Such was the reward of 
his moderation on the one hand, whilst on the other the 
people smarting with the sense of injury and insult, took 
little part in a discourse which painted their sufferings so 
short of what they felt them. Yet trusting to the good in- 
tentions of the earl of Moira, and seeing the difficult card 
he had to play; above all comparing him with those who 
were against him, I could not but feel very great respect 
for his efforts, and an infinite desire to contribute to their 
success. Indeed if his motion had no other good effect, it 
had at least that of setting in a striking point of view the 
contrast between a man of high breeding and the low pet- 
ulance of the faction that opposed him in the name of a 
constitution which they had already betrayed and were 
shortly to annihilate. 



ADVERTISEMENT, 



To the Reader* 



WHEN these letters were written, I had with- 
held from my friend the following correspondence with 
lord Moira. This might have been an overstrained deli- 
cacy at that time; but subsequent events and present cir- 
cumstances require, that I should make it known for my 
reputation's sake. And indeed circumvented and ensnared 
as I am by the craft of my enemies; I have no other means 



72 MEMOIRS OF 

of communicating my sentiments than this public one, even 
t) many of those materially interested to know them. 

It was on the 19th. of February, 1798, that lord Moira 
took his seat in the Irish parliament, and made his cele- 
brated motion for conciliatory measures. I had before that 
been admitted into the society of the countess dowager of 
Moira and Huntingdon, a lady distinguished by advan- 
tages greater than her high birth, those of a cultivated 
and solid mind, stored with the richest treasures of erudi- 
tion. I was also very well received by her daughters, 
lady Granard and lady Charlotte Rawdon, persons of 
whose acquaintance the proudest man might be ambitious. 
My brother had been long acquainted with lord Moira, 
and had a great respect and attachment for him. Among 
the persecuted Catholics of Armagh, were many tenants of 
his lordship, who had made choice of me for their advocate. 
And so violent was the government party against Mm, that 
the peep of day boys had committed outrages in his town of" 
Eallynaliinch, and one of the ladies pointed out to me a 
house of a principal inhabitant, perforated with musket 
shot which they had fired into the windows in the night. 
Besides this it was said and believed, that general Lake 
had declared that some town must be burned in the north, 
and the best to begin with was lord Moira's. And so 
great were his lordship's apprehensions that he transmit- 
ted to England his family library, one of the most precious 
to be found in the possession of any individual. On lord 
Moira's arrival also, I had instituted a society, of which 
were men undoubtedly the most distinguished in Ireland,* 
such as Grattan, the Ponsoiibys, Curran, Flecher, the 
brave old Montgomery, with some others of the patriotic 
members of parliament, and uncorrupted lawyers, and 



WIXXIAM SAMPSON. J^ 

certain of the influential Catholics and merchants, whose 
credit and correspondence was necessary to the object in 
view, which was to collect true and authenticated facts to 
be opposed as a bulwark to falsehood and national calumny, 
and possibly by their great enormity to appal those imme- 
diately responsible; or if there was any wisdom or justice 
beyond them to force conviction there. By tins society I 
was named historiographer, and my brother corresponding 
secretary. We had proceeded for some time in despite of 
the reigning terror with effect: and never were more tragi- 
cal stories wrested from oblivion. 

At this time it is impossible to say to what particular 
degree each man in the community was tainted with rebel- 
lion. Every good man was in some degree rebellious: 
some more, some less; each according to the warmth of 
his heart, the firmness of his mind, his compassion* his 
honesty, perhaps his ambition or his interest. But he who 
felt no tendency to rebel against such crimes had, I think, 
but little cause to glorify himself, It is only for him who 
searches all hearts, to know the pangs which a conscien- 
tious man in such a state of things must feel, particularly 
one whose connections, intimacies, youthful habits, and ties 
of blood, lie on the one side; whilst the voice of reason and 
humanity and the instinctive horror of oppression and 
cruelty calls him to the other. How many ties must then 
be rent asunder! The love of country, the love of his fel- 
low-creature, the love and fear of his God, prompt him to 
rebel against crimes forbidden by the laws of God and man. 
The tender affections of the heart, the scruples which a 
humane mind must ever have to surmount before it can en^ 
gage in the dreadful conflict of a civil war. 

Such were the considerations which often occupied J113 

K 



f4 MEMOIRS OE 

private thoughts. I was convinced of the monstrous abuses 
committed against the Irish people, of the misery and de- 
gradation in which they were held by inhuman policy and 
a barbarous code, of the insolence of their plunderers, and 
the corruption and cruelty of their masters. The strong 
remonstrances in which not only the United Irishmen, but all 
the unhired and many even of the hired, had made at various 
times: for there is scarcely a name of any uncorrupted in- 
dividual of the slightest degree of importance, that is not 
somewhere to be found annexed to resolution, petition or 
remonstrance, at one time or other, complaining of these 
evils. I therefore however convinced of the truths propa- 
gated by the United Irishmen, was long in acting upon 
that conviction. And although for some time previous to 
this period I had determined and declared, in case of civil 
war that I should not be against the people, unless the mea= 
sures of the government should become such as that with- 
out sacrificing my conscience I could support it: still I 
tried if possible to find some middle course by which the 
most good could be effected and the most evil prevented, 
I had always seen that the hard hearted tax-masters of my 
country had never relented but through fear. I therefore, 
whenever I wrote or spoke of public matters, endeavored 
to state their danger with the firm tone of true conviction; 
whilst on the other hand I labored to soften the too just 
indignation of the popular party, and often lost the popu- 
larity which courageous and upright dealing had acquired 
to me, by hankering after that conciliation which bolder 
politicians affirmed to be impossible, and reform which 
they foresaw never would be conceded; and perhaps by too 
much attachment to individuals who have not returned 
that attachment as generously as they ought. Some, to 



WlillAM" SAMPSON. 

jiae Mr. Tone's words, had long meditated upon the sub- 
ject and were convinced that separation was the only rem- 
edy. I was very late in taking any part in politics, 
and had yielded unwillingly and against my interest and 
my predilections to too much conviction, I persevered 
with all my might to bring about a co-operation between 
the popular leaders and the parliamentary opposition, in 
order that unanimity of talents and influence might if pos 
sible prevail, and succeeded so far as to persuade the 
whole to make one final effort for reform through the par 
Jiament. I had drawn several of those petitions which 
were presented to the king with the same intention from 
towns and counties, in defiance of the insurrection act, par- 
ticularly that of Downe, ( See Appendix No. VII. J which 
was passed without any alteration by the freeholders of 
that county. When I acted as chairman at the Belfast 
town meeting ( See Appendix No. VIII. J I did not know 
that the French had been invited, nor for a long time af- 
terwards: but as that important event seemed a fair warn- 
ing to the English, who felt that they owed their danger to 
the weakness and vice of their government in Ireland and 
their safety to the elements alone, I still hoped that some« 
thing might be done through their fears, though nothing 
could be effected through their justice. I know that in 
this I passed for a weak and unexperienced politician in 
the eyes of many: yet had any conciliation or any thing 
like redress of griefs been held out by government (for the 
parliament was but an instrument) it might have been pos^ 
sible to have obtained for Ireland solid advantages, and con- 
sequent advantage and security to England. I have high 
authority now to say that I was not mistaken, and that the 
Sentiments expressed in contradiction of this opinion were 



W> MEMOIRS Ol 

rnOre from the certainty that their efforts would be to every 
good purpose unavailing, and would produce nothing but a 
division in the public mind. 

Did I aspire to a high rank as a politician I should 
not mention all these scruples which may rather class 
me amOngst the lesser geniuses: but I write for truth and 
hot for vanity. I write to let my friends perceive that I 
never have deceived them, and to let my oppressors fee! 
the Weight of my iniquity. 

Lord Moira lived at his mother's residence ih Dublin. 
I was presented to him; and if I had received attentions 
from the ladies* I experienced still more flattering ones 
from him. He once called me into his cabinet, and after 
apologizing by anticipation, With all that suavity and no- 
bleness of manner which he possesses* and after I had as- 
sured him that I knew him incapable of speaking any thing 
that ought to offend, he proposed to me to go over and 
live with him in England; that he saw a storm gathering 
round me; that he knew how I Was threatened; that what- 
ever loss it might be, he would endeavor to counterbalance^ 
it, and that to whatever amount I chose, he would be my 
banker, and make my fortune his particular care. I did 
hot immediately recover from the emotion this proceeding 
excited in me; but when I did, I answered that had this of- 
fer been made a short time before I might perhaps have 
accepted of it; that I felt the value of it as much as if I 
did; that however agreeable such a retreat under the 
auspices of his lordship might be, I could not consent to it 
at present, as several hundreds of my oppressed country- 
men looked to me for their vindication. And having in 
Such a crisis undertaken the defence of the wretched, I 
found it as impossible to abandon my duty to them as it 



WltXIAM SAB1PS0N. \ r 

would be for his lordship to quit the field of battle in the 
moment of action. 

About this time my brother persuaded the society to let 
lord Moira have the use of some of the well authenticated 
documents we had collected; and he induced me to join 
him heartily and actively in seconding his views; and be- 
fore 1 quit this long digression I must mention one most ex- 
traordinary occurrence which his lordship, notwithstanding 
the time and the changes that have intervened, cannot 
have forgotten. 

A man from England who passed by various names in 
his correspondence with the castle, Bird, Smith, Johnson, 
&c. and who had been one of the hired denouncers in the 
employment of government, smote as he allcdged by re- 
morse and compunction, refused to follow up his work, 
and escaping to a place of safety, published his reasons; 
and in one piece gravely reproved the immorality of the 
government, adding a prophetic warning that such crimes 
could not long prosper. ( See Appendix JVfo. IX. ) He 
was a man of very unusual talent, and I believe never so 
desperately engaged in deeds of blood as the rest of the 
body known by the name of the battalion of testimony. 

It was a part of the tactics of the faction, before the 
laws were totally abolished, to deny the most positive 
facts. When that was impossible they said government 
did not give such orders, and that the courts of justice 
were open. The confessions of a man of this kind were 
all-important to the substantiation of truth; and having had 
some intimation that Mr. Bird wished to reveal every 
thing in discharge of his conscience I went, accompanied 
by Mr. Grattan and my brother, from lord Moira* s at a 
pretty late hour, and staid until this extraordinary man 



ft* MEMOIRS OS 1 

had written upon two and thirty pages of large paper., 
Which he did without stopping, not only his own doings 
but those of others of the battalion of testimony associated 
With him. Of these were Mr. Newell, a painter, who 
used to go about in a robe with a mask and a wand to 
point out his victims, who were immediately seized and 
dragged to the dungeon or to execution. Mr. Newell also 
shortly after published his atrocities in the way of a story;. 
Another was Mr. Dutton^ a servant, who had been turned 
away for stealing plate from his mistress, an Englishman 
also. He sometimes headed the ancient Britons in their 
most murderous excurtions, and I believe had a commis- 
sion as an officer among them and other very signal marks 
of favor, and had then full power of life and death given 
him over the Irish. Another was a Mr. Murdock, son of 
a hearth-money collector. The story Mr. Bird related of 
these men was a tissue of unexampled profligacy, villany 
and obscenity. Lord Moira must still, I should suppose, 
be in possession of it. I took care that every page of it 
should be signed by Bird and countersigned by Mr. Grat- 
tan, who was a privy counsellor. 

I shall now close this digression, too long perhaps, but 
necessary to the perfect understanding of the following let- 
ters; 

Donington, Dec. 26, 1798. 

Mr, 

YotiR letter of the 21st. addressed to me in 
London, has only this afternoon reached me here. I must 
undoubtedly feel it claimed from me by every considera- 
tion of justice, that you should have the perusal of any doc- 
ument in my possession, which you may think necessary 



WIIXIAM SAMPSON 

towards the statement you meditate to the duke of Port* 
land. Those copies are in the hands of Mr, Sheridan in 
town. I will immediately write to request that he will 
give you the inspection of those documents whensoever yo a 
shall apply to him. It is impossible for me to form will* 
sufficient accuracy the opinion which you ask of me, wheth- 
er it would not be expedient for you under your present 
circumstances to repeat the solicitation for an interview 
with the duke of Portland. That must depend upon your 
power of adducing facts capable of rebutting the charge** 
which have been advanced against you, or your means of 
giving to his grace an insight into circumstances whence 
he may draw advantage to the public. I must be incom* 
petent to judge of those particulars. 

You desire that I will not pass condemnation upon jou 
unheard: and your further expressions on that point con- 
vince me that it is not merely a general appeal to candor? 
but an observation upon something which I have said res- 
pecting you. I should not only have deemed it repugnant 
to every principle of equity and honor to have pronounced 
you guilty without having heard your defence, but I bad 
seen too many instances of the frenzy or the profligacy of 
party in Ireland, to have credited uninvestigated impute 
tions, however confidently urged. The expression in my 
letter to your brother, to which I am sure you allude, must 
show you by what supposition I was misled: for when I 
said that I was satisfied he had not had any suspicion of the 
guilt which you had acknowledged, it is clear that I imag, 
ined you had confessed your participation in the conspira- 
cy. Your entering into the engagement to expatriate 
yourself in common with Messrs. O'Connor, Emmet, &e* 
made every body in this country faud me among the rest) 



SO MEMOIRS OE 

take it for granted that you had confessed, as they did;, 
rhe being implicated in a correspondence with the French, 
and in a plot to subvert the constitution of your country; 
crimes of the most heinous nature. It was not until very 
lately that I was assured you had not made any such avow- 
al, and that you would not sign the agreement for quitting 
Ireland until government had declared there was not any 
charge against you beyond that on the ground of libel as 
manager of the Press. My surprize on the occasion was 
not greater than my pain at having used to your brother 
so unjustified an expression. The error which I have ex- 
plained will, I am certain, sufficiently apologize for me: 
therefore I will only add that I sincerely lament the wound 
which I see you have felt from that incorrect supposition of 
mine. 

I have the honor to be, Sir, 

Tour most obedient humble servant, 

MoiRA* 

William Sampson, Esq, 



REPLY TO THE ABOVE. 

My Lord, 

I have received the honor of your lord- 
ship's letter, dated Donington, December 26. It appears 
by a mark on the cover to have been missent, and has the 
Brimingham post mark. I received by the same post, a 
letter from Mr. Wickham, written by the duke of Port- 
land's desire, informing me that it was expected I should 
not use his passport to go any but the most direct road 
from one place to the other, and particularly not to attempt 
to go through London. I have thought proper as I do not 



WIIIIAM SAMPSON. 81 

mean to make any public appeal, at least until a more hap- 
py occasion, or if that should not present itself until my 
death, or some other casualty should give publicity to a 
statement I have left behind, to transmit you a copy of my 
answer. 

Your candor, to which I am sure no man can appeal in 
vain, has acknowledged that you owed me some explana- 
tion. And I am abundantly gratified with that which you 
have given. I have had no correspondence with any pub- 
lic character in this kingdom but your lordship, except the 
secretary of state. For troubling you I have both a public 
and a private motive: ignorance, perhaps, of the sphere in 
which you act, dictates the first. For^ finding that you 
had taken upon yourself a distinguished post in the active 
service of the king, I conceived that my writing to your 
lordship could not be taken as any meddling with opposi 
tion to government. But that if on the contrary any 
thing appeared just or meritorious in the view I proposed 
of opening the eyes of the English ministers as to the pro- 
ceedings in Ireland, it might have claimed your support* 
My second motive was, to clear myself from an imputation 
which I abhor, that of ineincerity and ingratitude. Had 
I, when your lordship was in Ireland and expressed your- 
self so kindly towards me, been guilty of deceiving you, I 
should have deserved the worst epithet my enemies have 
bestowed upon me. As far as your necessary reserve and 
the slightness of my acquaintance would permit, I did im- 
part exactly what I knew and what I felt. Facts howev- 
er were what you chiefly desired; and let me ask whether 
any of those I did procure for your lordship have ever been 
contradicted? Certain resolutions, touching your lord- 
ship's motion in the Irish house of lords., passed in a cora= 

x 



»2 Memoirs oe 

mittee of United Irishmen, which were read at some of the 
state trials. Your lordship may remember the opinion I 
gave of the sentiments of that great majority of the Irish 
people. But further than conjecture I was as ignorant as 
your lordship, having no place in its organization in any 
of its branches, either civil or military. Had I been in- 
strumental in passing such resolutions, I must have been 
a hypocrite to have visited your lordship upon the footing 
that I did: and after having assisted you in the collection 
of the facts which made the ground of your motion, I was 
not certainly capable of throwing such a bar in the way of 
its success. 

Your lordship has mentioned the names of Messrs. Em- 
met, O'Connor, &c. These gentlemen are fitter to justify 
themselves than I am: one of them I have known most in- 
timately. No man has ever spoken of his private charac- 
ter but with admiration. His public opinion I ever knew 
to be benevolent in the extreme. If he has erred it has 
not been in his heart. And he who acts purely from his 
best judgment walks by the light which God has given 
him. Your lordship must feel however as well as I do, 
that there is something strongly calling for alteration when 
treason gain's the sanction of men's names, whose every 
step from infancy upwards has been traced by virtue, ge- 
nerosity and gentleness: and I think he would be the 
greatest benefactor of any government who would invent 
some better way of reform than that of making characters, 
formed to adorn their country and their species, the vic- 
tims of dungeons and of gibbets. In saying this I do not 
wish to take upon me the offences of others: I have given, 
it seems, sufficient offence myself. But no justification of 



WIXXIAM SAMPSON. S3 

mine shall ever be at the expense of those who have paid so 
clearly for their own. 

Your lordship is again led into error In supposing 
that I was or was even imputed to be the manager of the 
"Press." That paper was set up when I was in the 
country; and was continued sometime before I ever saw it. 
About that time I was exposed by my residence in the 
country, to hear the grievances and injuries of the oppress- 
ed. Your lordship, from the comparatively small speci- 
men you have seen, may judge of what they were; and 
whether he was more a traitor who could perpetrate, abet, 
or even calmly look on such crimes, or he who in defi- 
ance of his private interest and at the risque of his per- 
sonal safety, had courage to express his honest indignation 
and at any hazard to vindicate the laws of God and man 
against them. The use I made of the Press was to pub- 
lish those facts of which you were desirous also to be the 
publisher; the suppression and consequent impunity of 
which, you seemed to foresee as well as I did, would lead to 
rebellion. Many writings however were imputed to me 
which were disagreeable to me, and which I would have 
gladly repressed. I had for the rest much less concern with 
the Press than you conceive, and as proprietor or manager 
none at all. Many things indeed I did write for it, the 
whole of which I should have little hesitation to avow. 

I have in vain sought for confrontation with my ac- 
cusers. I have in vain sought to fix them to any one 
charge, and therefore it is in vain for me to attempt any jus- 
tification of a character so truly unimpeached. My conduct 
at a town meeting of Belfast, respecting the arming of the 
yeomen, was a thing much dwelt uJ>on. Here is a short 
statement of it. The magistrates had called a meeting 



N MEMOIRS OF 

which, as it concerned every body, was attended by several 
thousand people. I knew the dispositions of those people. 
But I solemnly avow that I did not even suspect that there 
had been at that time any alliance formed with the French* 
It was a natural supposition that the discontents and anger 
of the public would, if not softened, lead to it, and upon, 
that view I acted. I was put upon a committee, of which 
were the sovereign of the town and five other magistrates* 
The meeting was adjourned, and at the adjourned assem- 
bly, the sovereign for reasons best known to himself re- 
fused to take the chair. Resolutions had been handed to 
me by some of the firmest supporters of the government, 
a literal copy of what had been drawn up by lord Oneill, 
but in a stile so moderated that it was scarcely hoped that 
they could have passed at the county meeting for which 
they were intended. I prevailed so far however in this 
committee as to have them passed. The meeting was like 
to become clamorous for want of order: and the soldiers 
were drawn up under arms, and prepared to fire upon the 
people. It seemed as if a massacre had been planned, for 
every usual place of public meeting was shut. I out of 
humanity did then expose myself in the open street, in a 
situation little according with my disposition* and read 
the resolutions, which after my being voted into the chair, 
were approved of, and, the people dispersed in the most or- 
derly manner: and after offering to arm as the ancient vo- 
lunteers had done, declared they would be satisfied with 
the assurance of a reform for the present: and that they 
would consider the government by king, lords and com- 
mons, when wisely administered, as sufficient for their 
happiness. What then was my surprise to read a few 
flays afterwards in a newspaper an expression of the 



WIIXIAM SAMPSON. tiS 

chancellor, that the great commercial town of Belfast had 
cume to resolutions so treasonable, that he wondered at 
the mildness of the government that would let the authors 
of them live! This, however exasperating, produced no 
retaliation on my part. Thus, if I have been at any time 
sharper against those I conceived to be acting wrong than 
a perfectly prudent man might be, it will be generally 
found that I have been more sinned against than sinning. 
Subsequent events have not done much discredit to my 
principles or my foresight. Had those who thought and 
felt as I did been a little more attended to and less abused 
cr insulted, it might have been better. ( See the Resolu- 
tions, Appendix JV*o. X.J 

With respect to parliamentary reform and Catholic 
emancipation, these notions had been riveted in the public 
mind by those who are now the king's ministers, long be- 
fore I took any part in politics. They may be called the 
leaders of the people in this offence; I cannot; but I thought 
it a sufficient reason for reclaiming those measures that 
they were just in themselves: and as I then thought and 
do still think, would have contented the country. And I 
thought that every illegal and cruel attack upon those who 
committed no crime but that of lawfully pursuing such law- 
ful measures, ought to be resisted. 

Did I not determine to put my justification upon none 
but the broadest and most candid footing, I might excuse 
myself without offending the administration, by saying 
that they had information which I had not, and probable 
cause to infer participation on my part when there was 
none. But it is not my way to bow under persecution; I 
shall put it upon no such ground. I was on the contrary 
always of opinion, that no political exigency or necessity - 



86 MEMOIRS 01? 

could ever justify violation or torture, many proofs of 
which, long" before any political offence is even imputed to 
me, are in your lordship's possession; many hundreds 
more in mine. 

I shall conclude, by begging of your lordship, as you 
have been once innocently my accuser, to be now my de- 
fensor: not that I expect or desire of you to add the autho- 
rity of your name to any thing here stated. I should ra- 
ther that my case stood upon its own intrinsic truth than 
the authority of the greatest name. I only wish that if 
this letter be satisfactory to your lordship, you may com- 
municate it to such as your former misapprehension may 
have confirmed in an unfavorable opinion of me, particu- 
larly the ladies of your lordship's family, whose good 
opinion I should be sorry to lose. I shall keep a copy of 
Hi is, as it contains the outlines and principal part of my 
story: and lest by any accident this should not reach 
your lordship, I shall deposit the copy with a gentleman 
from whom you may one day receive it and some other 
curious intelligence. 

I should add, that Mr. Emmet in one part of his exami- 
nation (and he was a director of the union) did say, that 
had reasonable hope of a reform at any time presented it- 
self, the connexion with the French would have been broken 
off. This from a man of known veracity upon his oath, 
proved yery consoling to me for the efforts I had made, and 
the sufferings I had undergone. 

I have the honor to be, my, lord, 
Your lordship* 's 
Most obedient humble servant, 

William Sampson 



TVIIXIAM SAMPSON. S 

Now before I suffer the press to resume the scries of the 
letters written during my stay in France; and as I have 
had occasion to bring Mr. Emmet's name before the pub- 
lic, there is one fact respecting him which I feel it as a 
duty to state. 

He with the other leaders of the United Irishmen has 
been charged with encouraging the crime of assassination. 
and reference has been made to an anonymous publication 
called the "Union Star," which was circulated clandes- 
tinely from time to time, and thrown into the areas or 
pushed under the doors in the night, One or two numbers 
of it came to my hands. The reasoning they contained 
upon the subject of retaliation, was uncommonly nervous 
and daring. They imputed not to virtue, but to cowar- 
dice or weakness, that principle which they maintained 
had no other operation than to arrest the arm of defence 
and leave the helpless victim at the mercy of the infuriate 
assailant! They stated, that those who had proclaimed 
their nation out of the king's peace and suspended the laws, 
ought not to hope for the protection of laws. They had 
chosen, they said, to resort to the state of nature, if ever 
such existed, where there were no law r s, and it was at their 
own peril. Shall they whose unmeasured extortions de- 
prive the hungry of food and the naked of covering, whose 
magnificence is only equalled by the wretchedness of these 
who pay for it? Shall they, said the author, who support 
such a system of plunder by a system of universal pros.* 
cription, be held as immortal gods? Shall their person 
be inviolate, and the groans of the tortured administer to 
their repose? Who is he, they said, who can recall the 
dead to life, and restore to the widow her lost husband, 
and to the orphan his parent? Where have they learned 



88 MEMOIRS OF 

to sanctify robbery and to hallow murder? Where ha\b 
they learned that ten thousand innocent poor should die, 
that one guilty rich should live? 

Such were the outlines of this publication, of which 
I believe the author never was discovered. Some thought 
it was a stratagem of the government, in order to throw 
odium upon the opposite cause. To me the arguments 
9eemed too strong and too terribly applicable to warrant 
that supposition. I had upon the subject of these papers 
several conversations with Mr. Emmet. He was very 
zealous in his efforts to restrain them, and I believe suc- 
cessful. And what is more, there was found amongst his 
papers at his arrestation one drawn up by him and me, 
and intended to have been subscribed by all whose names 
could be supposed most influencial amongst the people, 
which the government with its usual candor took care en- 
tirely to suppress. The danger we had to avoid was, that 
of being marked by the government as chiefs: for Ireland 
has afforded instances enough of men being put to death 
upon that proof of guilt, that they had been able to save 
their persecutors lives. So strange and intricate are the 
ways of guilt, when to save or to destroy are equally crim- 
inal and fatal. Some of these instances are to be found in 
Mr. Plowden's history of Ireland, a work which, allowing 
for the circumstances of the times, the prejudices of which 
no man can suddenly divest himself; considering that he 
was an Englishman, writing under the sanction of the Brit- 
ish government; considering the terror and delusion which 
has not yet subsided, does him extreme honor. 

Others of these facts are to be found in Mr. Hay's ac 
fount of the proceedings in Wexford, and others in the 



WttilAM SAMPSON. 89 

history of the rebellion, by the Rev. Mr. Gordon. ( See 
Appendix No. XI.) 



CONTINUATION OF THE LETTERS. 



LETTER X. 

Mr. Wickham — Colonel Edwards — Oporto. 

I do not know to what it was owing, unless to the 
crime of having corresponded with lord Moira, that I re- 
ceived the following sharp letter from Mr. Wickham: 

TO W*. SAMPSON, ESQ. 

Sir, 

I am directed by the duke of Portland to in- 
form you, that if you think proper to make use of the pass- 
port which has been granted, to enable you to proceed 
from Pullhelly to Falmouth, it is expected that you should 
take the nearest road from one place to the other; and es- 
pecially that you should not attempt to go through London. 
I have the honor to be, sir, 

Your most obedient humble servant, 

W m. Wickham. 

About this time I found also that my persecutors were 
not yet asleep in Ireland; for I saw by a newspaper, that 
lord Clare and some other judges had published an order, 

SI 



OjC memoirs oe 

that my name, together with those of Mr. 0' Conner and 
Mr. Emmet, were struck out of the list of barristers. I 
paid little attention to the fact. It is not at present worth 
disputing: but I believe it amounts to nearly the same 
thing as if I had ordered their names to be struck out of 
the list of judges. The only object it could have was to 
take advantage of the perverseness of the moment, and the 
general terror that prevailed, perhaps to surprise some of 
the judges, who might not know, as I am sure they did 
not, the iniquities committed against me; and, as far as 
possible, to put it out of the power of the government itself 
to make me atonement, should justice ever return. I need 
not say what was my feeling; for there is only one that 
such proceeding can excite. 

However, in spite of calumny, in spite of prejudice, I 
lived from the 27th of November, until about the 20th of 
January, amongst the ancient Britons, in perfect good will 
and harmony with all of them. Bitter prejudices when 
overcome, often turn to friendships: and it might have 
been so with them. I found these people hospitable and 
good; and I imputed the mischief they had done in my 
country to the dupery practised upon them; of which they 
had been themselves the victims. I therefore abstained 
from all cause of offence towards them, and lamented deep- 
ly the vicious policy of rulers, who, instead of seeking the 
common happiness, sow dissentions purposely to weaken 
the common force, in order to become the common tyrants. 

I was once, when on a shooting party, introduced into 
the house of a Mrs. Jones, who received me with the most 
kind and amiable hospitality. She engaged me to dine, 
and ordered a pair of her son's boots to be given me to 
change. The boots indicated an owner of no diminutive 



WILLIAM SAMPSON. 9i 

Stature, and I asked if I should have the pleasure of seeing 
the gentleman they belonged to? I was told, that he was 
absent for the moment, and that he was a captain in the 
ancient Britons. See, my friend, to what new dangers I 
was exposed: what if this lusty ancient Briton had come 
home and caught me in his boots! '. 

Meanwhile, this persecution had extended so far, that 
some sailors, coming over to navigate the ship in place of 
others who had deserted her, were stopped on their way; 
and this merely because tljey were coming to take away 
the rebel of whom so much had been published. And a 
gentleman came once out of breath from Caernarvon to as- 
sure himself, that I was at Pullhelly: for some travellers 
had been actually stopped upon suspicion that I was one ol 
them, making my way through the country. 

That, however, which put me most at my ease in this 
crisis, was the protection I received from lieutenant-colonel 
Edwards, of the Caernarvon militia, who was then at his 
country-seat, called Nanhorn, upon leave of absence. He ? 
upon the appearance in his country of so arch a rebel, had 
written at the same time with me, to the duke of Portland., 
to know what he should do, for he was the principal magis- 
trate resident in the country. He received for answer, to 
observe, but not to molest me: he, thereupon, invited me 
frequently to his house, where I was received by him and 
his sister, Miss Edwards, an accomplished young lady, po- 
litely and hospitably, and spent many days at their house; 
and this intercourse was uninterrupted until their departure 
For Portsmouth, a few days before my sailing: when, being 
confined by sickness, they both did me the honor of a fare- 
well visit, and the colonel charged himself witli a letter to 
Biv sister at Portsmouth. I mention this circumstance 



92 MEMOIRS OF 

particularly, as compared with what follows; it illustrates 
the diabolical spirit of my persecution: for, at the time I 
was buried in the dungeons of the inquisition, from whence 
probably it was hoped I never should emerge, redress or 
protection was refused me, because of my improper conduct 
in Wales. And such was the only account, it is evident, 
which ever would have been given of me, had my existence 
ended there. 

At length, on the 12th of February, rising from a sick 
bed, I embarked for Oporto, where I arrived after a pas- 
sage of three weeks. 



XETTER XI. 



Taken prisoner — Released—Liberality — Mr. Nash — Mbe 
Morand. 



AT Oporto, as might be supposed fronTwhat had 
gone before, my reception was prepared for me. After be- 
ing kept several days on board the ship, a party of men, 
armed with swords, came to take me before the Corrigidor. 
I insisted on calling on my way upon the English consul, 
Mr. Whitehead. This gentleman, as was his duty, exam- 
ined my passports, and certified them to be genuine. And, 
as it is well known, that not only on account of the treaties 
that subsist between the two countries, but of the fear in 
which this nation stands of England, no British subject 
ever can be arrested without the privity of the authorities 
who are there for his protection: that is, without a warrant 



WIIXIAM SAMPSON. 95 

from the Judge jConservador. So the interference of Mr. 
Whitehead for this time protected me. It is true, I was 
often told afterwards by the Portuguese, that this gentle- 
man had injured, instead of serving me. I rather think, 
however, that had others, whose duty it was still more to 
protect me, done their part as fairly, I should not have 
suffered what I did. I was, upon quitting Mr. Whitehead, 
taken to the Corrigidor's, where, after being detained 
some time in the vestibule of his palace, I was dismissed. 
The next difficulty was to find a lodging; for in this coun- 
try the conveniences of social life are so little known, tjiat 
in general to have a lodging you must buy or hire a house 
and furnish it. There was indeed one hotel for the accom- 
modation of strangers, called the Factory-House. But it 
was given me to understand, that it would not be proper 
for me to go there, on account of my principles. In short, 
all the little dirty arts of the lowest malice had been put in 
practice, to strew my way with thorns. In this exigence, 
Mr. Miler, the gentleman to whom the ship that brought 
me was consigned, made me an invitation to live with hiin, 
which I accepted. 

Amongst the persons of great respectability to whom I 
had brought letters was Mr. Thomas Nash, an English 
merchant. Nothing could exceed the delicacy and at the 
same time the cordiality with which he came forward with 
offers of friendship and good counsel. It was by his ad- 
vice that I determined to remain in Oporto, rather than go 
to Lisbon or elsewhere. He proposed going early in the 
spring to his country house at St. Juan de Foz, and invited 
me to consider myself as one of his family. I thereupon 
wrote to my wife to come with her children and enjoy the 
tranquility so dearly purchased. Mr. Nash charged him- 



04 Memoirs o* 

self with finding us a habitation near his own. The invi^ 
tation was seducing, and rendered more so by the good- 
ness of his very amiable lady. Indeed I have seen few 
happier pictures of domestic life than their fire side. The 
social bonds become, it would seem, more sacred in a for- 
eign soil: and the ties of kindred and of tenderness draw 
more close as the objects of dissipation are more few. 
This respectable man found his pleasures in his honorable 
industry, and plenty in a prosperous commerce: living in 
as much elegance as gives grace to hospitality, and as 
much luxury as is compatible with virtue: and prolonging 
these blessings through a future generation, in the con- 
templation of a lovely offspring. 

My course of life was in the mean time as innocent as 
could well be. My chief pleasure was sailing upon the 
river in a little boat; and my companion, an unfortunate 
French abbe^ like me banished from his country, and like 
me desirous of fatiguing his body for the repose of his 
mind, and losing his cares amidst the amusing and cap* 
tivating scenery that adorned the banks of this fine river. 
This gentleman had received a good education, and was 
not at a loss for abwftiant topics of conversation, without 
touching the contentious ones of politics and religion. 
The abbe was besides acquainted with the management 
of the boat., young and robust, and as such essential for the 
service: and upon the whole, though we had come there by 
such different roads, it was wonderful how well we agreed 
and understood each other; for he neither sought to make 
a proselite of me nor I of him. We lived in the true spirit 
of christian toleration. My man, John Russel, also vol- 
unteered, more from love of me than of the element, and 
we three formed an epitome of my country, where the law 



WJXXIAM SAMPSON*. 95 

and the gospel predominate, and the rest of the community 
suffer. The abhe Morand is since, by the wiser policy of 
the present government of France, recalled into his coun- 
try. His opinions were his only crimes: and let opinions 
be good or bad, it is not persecution that will change them. 
For a proof of this we need not go beyond the history of 
my miserable country, and the pitiful and hateful policy by 
which it has ever been insulted. 

So rigorous an adherence to an agreement so disenter > 
estedly formed, and so shamefully perverted, a life so harm- 
less and obscure, might have sheltered me from further 
violence, The great work of war and extermination 
might have gone on; the same hundreds of thousands 
might have been "killed off; the same hundreds of millions 
been added to the debt of England; all the crowned heads 
of Europe might have sat upon their thrones; and the king 
of Great-Britain, as whose enemy, his and my enemies and 
the enemies of human kind were willing to persecute me, 
might have moved from one of his palaces to another. 
He might have gone from Kew to St. James's, whilst I 
went in my cock-boat from Oporto to St. Johns, without 
interruption on my side, or any ground of displeasure on 
his, had it not been determined by my enemies that my per* 
sedition was not to end here. 



96 MEMOIRS OP 



LETTER XII. 



Jlga in i mp risoned — Palace — Prison — Corrigidor — King — 
Queen — Prince — Variety, 

ON the 22d of March, my schemes of pleasure were 
out short by a visit from the Vice- Corrigidor, with a party 
of armed men, who seized me and my servant, and made a 
vigorous search for papers, shaking out every article of my 
linen, in hopes of finding some concealed WTiting. The in- 
terpreter told me, without reserve, that I was arrested by 
order of the English minister, for something I was sup- 
posed to be writing. All the papers I had were in my 
travelling secretary, lying open before me. I numbered 
them and gave them up, and was conducted to the Corrigi- 
dor's house, which was now to be my prison. 

This mansion exhibited no bad picture of a despotic 
country. One half was a prison, the other a palace, and 
the entrance in the centre was in common, and many of the 
household services were performed by convict slaves, 
whose chains clinked as they went. For me, however, a 
handsome audience hall (or, if I may profane the word, a 
court of justice) was fitted up, and bolts newly put upon the 
doors. My servant, who certainly was not writing any 
thing against the government, was nevertheless thrown 
amidst the malefactors in irons below; but afterwards, at 
my entreaty, allowed to come into the room with me: and 
from first to last I was in this palace treated with a degree 
of respect, magnificence, and gallantry, liker the old times 
of chivalry, or of faries, than what I had been used to in 
bridewell^ under Mr. M'Dougall and Mr. Trevor; or even 



WIIXIAM SAMPSON. 9? 

in the hands of Mr. Wilson at Carlisle. Even now the re- 
collection of it fills me with admiration. I had a guard 
during the day? hut not an armed one. This circumstance 
was rather favorable, as it gave me a means of conversing 
and learning the language; and my guard of the forenoon 
being relieved by one of the afternoon, and every day a new 
change, I had a variety of company. Besides the Maitre 
d'Hotel, who was charged to do the honors of the house to- 
wards me, I had seven or eight servants to wait at break- 
fast and dinner, and was served with every thing that was 
best from the table of the Corrigidor. Whether I owed 
this to the munificence of the Fidalgo, or to the interference 
of my friends, or to the interposition of the British Consul* 
I cannot say; but it was a style of imprisonment highly flat- 
tering: yet for which, having an incurable love of liberty 
rather than of compliments, I fear I have not been suffi- 
ciently grateful. 

My guards were clerks of the police and the customs. 
But part of their duty was to wait in the anti-chamber of 
the Fidalgo. Although they conversed freely upon com- 
mon subjects, they were most impenetrably secret upon 
whatever it concerned me to know. At first it was toldl 
me, without hesitation, that I was arrested by orders from 
England; they said from the king of England. But the 
manner in which I reproved this assertion, prevented the 
repetition of it. Though I had received no benefits, I told 
them, from the king of England, nor no favors from his 
ministers, for which I should feel myself called upon to de- 
fend them; nevertheless, such a charge as this was too 
gross to be endured; that it was but a few weeks since I 
came into Portugal, sanctioned by their passports; and by 
tin agreement to which the king himself, and the parlia* 

it 



&& MEMOIRS Off 

ment, and the ministers, were all pledged. And I repeated 
to them the words of lord Clare — "That the government 
which could violate an engagement so solemnly entered in- 
to, could neither stand, nor deserve to stand." And I told 
them, that they would see, when the British ambassador at 
Lisbon received the letters of my friends, informing him 
of this proceeding, how nobly he would vindicate the dig- 
nity of the king his master, and the honor of his nation. 

This harrangue could have no merit but the spirit with 
which it was pronounced. I was at that time sitting up in 
my bed, and I could observe that the by-standers, who had 
gathered round me, were at least in some astonishment: 
for it was almost the first time I had ventured to make a 
discourse in Portuguese: some effect it certainly produced, 
for next day I was told that it was the queen of Portugal 
who did not like me, which was still more afflicting to me: 
for I am sure I could not live if the fair sex were to hold 
me in displeasure; much more if it were queens. 

It is true the son of this illustrious personage, the prince 
of Brazil, has since, on taking the reins of the government, 
been forced to declare, that he had from tenderness to his 
loyal mother, suffered her to govern the Portuguese people 
for seven years, though in a state of insanity. This might 
be some consolation to me, for had this royal lady been in 
her right mind, she would not certainly have given herself 
the trouble of being angry at me. It is however a melan- 
choly consolation that is derived out of the misfortunes of 
princes. Sometimes they said the king of Portugal was 
not willing that I should stay in his country: but as there 
was no king in Portugal, I could see clearly that this was 
not time. 
In the mean time, however, couriers went and returned 



WILLIAM SAMPSON. 9.9 

from Lisbon; and I was told that my fate depended upon 
their news. At length I was for the first time in my life 
brought to trial, of which I must give yon a summary re- 
port. 



LETTER XIII, 

Report of my Trial — Mr. Scaly* 

THE same minister who came formerly to arrest 
sne, came now with the same interpreter to judge me, 
He asked me my father's name, my mother's name, their 
calling and my calling. I was ohliged to declare that I 
vrasjUlio dum padre; literally the son of a father, hut fi- 
guratively the son of a priest. And I fear this heresy in 
my nativity might have done me no service. I was then 
asked why I was so dangerous that I could not get leave 
to live in my own country? To which I answered, that 
my conduct since I had been in Portugal had been the very 
reverse of dangerous: and the respect due to the king of 
England and the government of my country should stand 
in place of an answer to such questions, because it would 
be supposing a bad compliment to the queen of Portugal, 
and such as the king of England, who was a gallant mon- 
arch, was incapable of paying her majesty to send a dan- 
gerous subject into her kingdom to live; and not only to 
live, but to take security from him that he would live 
there and no where else. And then I told my judge about 
lord Castlereagh and the law secretary, Mr. Marsden; 



.100 MEMOIRS OF 

how they had taken so many months to consider how to 
draw up that security; all which time I was obliged to re- 
main in gaol; and that in the end all they had done was, 
to leave out some words of lord Comwallis, which seemed 
to imply a doubt that I might be sent away by the Portu- 
guese government; so sure were they that I would not be 
molested; but on the contrary, that I should find protection 
in the passport they had given me. 

I then asked my judge in my turn, whether he had ever 
heard of any crime I had committed, either in my country 
or his? In this country, certainly not, said he. I then 
asked him whether the passports of the viceroy of Ireland 
and the king's secretary in England, were not the most 
certain proofs that I had nothing to answer for in Eng- 
land. And I also reminded him how highly injurious 
it would be to the king of England to try his subjects 
coming there with such passports, for what could in no 
shape concern any but him and them. He then asked me 
whether the duke of Portland was qualified to give pass- 
ports? or if it was not alderman James of Dublin? I could 
not help smiling at this strange question: but in truth this 
little presumptuous faction in Ireland, from the habit of 
insulting their fellow-citizens with impunity, had, I dare 
say, by their organized partisans, some of whom are to be 
found in all countries, arrogated to themselves the entire 
sovereignty in every department and in every region, 
without being able to foresee how short their reign was to 
be or how near the day of their humiliation was at hand. 
I have often thought it curious to see how in all cases they 
applied the word government to their purposes. Every 
man in place down to the collector of the hearth money, 
ailed himself government, Every man, and there were 



WIIXIAM SAMPSON. 101 

too many who shared the public plunder, was government. 
Every man in a red coat was government. Every turn- 
key was government. Every hired informer was govern- 
ment. Every Hessian soldier was government. Every 
centnj-box was government. Judge then how imposing 
and awful a name must that be of an alderman of the loyal 
and magnanimous corporation of Dublin. But to finish; 
the judge produced a letter from a Mr. Sealy of Lisbon, 
which I had sometime before received in answer to one of 
mine to him. In it was this phrase: "1 cannot on account 
of my political principles comply with your request." I 
was called upon to explain these mysterious words, and 
my trial seemed now to be narrowed to this point, what 
were Mr. Sealy's principles and my request. I certainly 
know nothing of Mr. Sealy's political principles: but if I 
were to judge from the specimen he gave me of his breed- 
ing and his sense, I should not think favorably of them. 
I had been furnished by one of his friends with a credit 
upon his house, and also with a private recommendation 
to him. Mr. Nash having determined me to stay at Opor- 
to, offered himself to be my banker, and advised me mere- 
ly to send forward my letter of recommendation to Mr. 
Sealy, and to request of him to give me on the credit of it 
some introductions to his friends in Oporto; and took up- 
on himself to enclose the letter, with many obliging ex- 
pressions touching me. His answer, which now became 
the subject of my interrogatories and the head of accusa- 
tion, shews only one thing, namely, how dangerous it is 
in every case to be exposed either to the vulgar or the 
vicious. 

This- imprisonment, though not painful in itself, filled 
me on account of my wife, whom I daily expected, with 



# 



102 MEMOIRS 01 

very great disquietude. She who had been reared in the 
lap of indulgence and never known either hardship or pri= 
vation, might with her helpless infants arrive in this coun- 
try and find me in a prison, and perhaps something even 
worse. She might he exposed to other chances; be taken 
prisoner into some other country, where either she might 
not be able to hear of me, or if she did, might only hear 
that which would afflict her still the more. I urged this 
to my judge, who said he would represent it with the state- 
ment of my answers, which he had caused to be written 
down, to his superior, and so finished my trial. But this 
painful consideration and the close confinement again af- 
fected my health. The pain in my chest encreased: I lost 
all appetite, and certainly a few weeks more would have 
put an end to all my persecutions. 



XETTER XIV. 

Doctor — Journey to Lisbon — Comedians, Friars, 8fc* 

A Doctor was, however, upon great entreaty, allow- 
ed to give me a plaister for my breast. I was permitted? 
but only in the presence of the interpreter, to receive a 
visit from Mr. Nash. It had been the day before pro- 
posed to me to set out for Lisbon, where it was said I 
should see the English and Portuguese ministers and be 
set at liberty. Mr. Nash exhorted me strongly to accept 
of the proposal, and told me he had conferred on the sub- 
ject with the corrigidor, who was exceedingly concerned 



* 



W1XX1AM SAMPSON. 103 

and interested for me, and who had shewn him all my 
papers assorted in the most favorable order, which would 
be returned to me on my arrival at Lisbon: that there 
should be but one gentleman to conduct me and my man, 
and that I should pay my own expenses and be without 
restraint: that at Lisbon I should be set free, or that the 
very worst that could happen, would be to send me to Eng- 
land, where I should remain in peace with my family; or 
if that was disagreeable to me, to some neutral country 
which I should prefer, perhaps Hamburg. He even went 
so far as to say that he would pledge his word of honor 
and be answerable with his heart's blood that no mischief 
whatever should happen to me. All this he said with an 
air of kindness and sincerity, which made a strong im- 
pression on me; and added, seizing both my hands affec- 
tionately, that if my wife should arrive after my departure, 
she should find in him a brother and in Mrs. Nash a sister. 
And also that he would charge . himself with forwarding 
any letters or commissions or any effects I might leave 
behind me. The candid and kind manner in which he 
expressed himself, put it out of my power to reply. It 
might appear headstrong and even ungenerous not to ac- 
quiesce; and I instantly consented. Though long perse- 
cution had taught me to distrust, and I boded secretly 
some perfidy which I did not chuse to hint at; but the se- 
quel will shew how true those bodings were. 

The following morning, being the first of April, I was 
called up; and on looking out of my window perceived that 
I was to have three men armed to escort me; but cf 
this I made no complaint. The weather was cold and un- 
settled; and not daring to expose myself to the rain, in the 
fteble state of my health, I travelled in a machine in use 



10.4 MEMOIRS or 

in that country called a litter, suspended between two 
mules; at the side of which walked a fellow with a stick, 
who did nothing hut curse and beat these poor animals* 
My servant was mounted on a mule as were all the others 
except the courier, the chief of the expedition, who rode 
on a poney. 

Were I writing a work of fancy, there would be ample 
matter in the history of our caravan. We were joined at 
the ferry by two Dominican friars; the prior and a novi- 
ciate of the convent of Villa Real. In their conversation 
I found great resource, as by means of the Latin language 
I could express the names of many things which I did not 
know in the Portuguese. They seemed very kind-hearted; 
and when in conversation I mentioned the misfortunes 
of my country, of which mine were but a slight instance, 
and particularly the state of cruel proscription in which 
those of the Catholic faith were held in their native land, I 
could perceive the tears more than once to start in the eyes 
of the young man. 

We had some persons of an opposite calling to that of 
the good fathers; a family of Italian comedians. From 
one of the ladies, with whom I had an opportunity of con- 
versing as we walked together one day along the road, I 
found that they had been invited by the corrigidor to O- 
porto. That he, without knowing their language or their 
art, had taken upon him to manage their opera, and fin- 
ished by putting them in prison for not giving full execu- 
tion to his conceptions. From this prison they had been 
at length delivered, and were making the best of their 
way to the frontiers. 

There were also some of a meaner description; such as 
fish-carriers, carrying eels as a present to some Fidalgo 



WIEilAM SAMPSON*. 105 

from the corrigidor: also a mulatto woman following her 
husband (a soldier) to Lisbon, and a poor barefooted Gal- 
lego going to seek for work in the same metropolis. This 
latter danced and sung before us the whole way; and was, 
though the most despised, doubtless the most happy of the 
party. At our table, between couriers, scribes, friars and 
comedians, mule-drivers, litter-driver, and their valets, 
we sat down together to dinner, seldom less than fifteen 
persons; and our constant repast, twice in the day, was 
boiled fowls buried in greasy yellow rice, of which I 
scarcely tasted. At night we of the higher sort lay down 
promiscuously on the floor, where mattresses of straw were 
laid, the inns affording nothing better; for there was but 
one inn on all the way in which there was a bedstead. 

In return for this I was quite unrestrained upon the 
road. As often as I chose I got out to walk; sometimes 
mounted the mule of my servant, but oftener the horse of 
the courier, on which occasions I had a sword and a case 
of pistols before me. I got leave to walk about the towns 
with one of my guards, and in Coimbra I bought some 
books, and conversed with some of the students of the uni- 
versity in a coffee-house; and it was every where given 
out, that I was a grandee going to the minister of state. 

After seven days travelling we arrived in the metropolis. 
The friars took leave of me at the last stage. The come- 
dians had staid behind to give a concert at Coimbra. 
The fish carriers had long since disappeared. The Mil- 
lattress and the Gallego had abandoned me to my fortune, 
and there remained but such mules, mule-driver's valets* 
scribes, couriers, &c. as were in my immediate pay. The 
courier rode on, as he said, to announce me to the minis - 
ter; but upon entering the suburbs I saw him waiting for 



106 MEMOIRS OF 

us at the end of a street, and then drawing up with the 
rest in regular order of procession. 

I was conducted through a number of dirty streets, to 
the foot of a frightful prison, where my future house-mates 
were eyeing me through their bars. I asked the Courier, 
if that was his minister's hotel? He answered, no: for jthe 
minister, he said, was not able to receive me, nor to see me 
this evening, being very busy: but that I was going to 
lodge in a fine apartment, built for kings and queens. I 
asked him, if I was going to gaol? and he denied it, saying, 
that this was not a gaol, but a castle: that the. minister 
would come to see me in the morning, and that in the 
mean time they would all go and announce my arrival to 
the English ambassador. 

I need not tell you, that I was not the dupe of this mum- 
mery. I was taken into a great hall, where was an old man, 
who deliberately putting on his spectacles and opening a 
book, asked me my name, my country, and some other im- 
pertinent questions. I asked him if there were lodgings 
bespoke for me by the minister, who was to come and visit 
me in the morning? He said he knew nothing of the mat- 
ter. I then asked him, if he knew who I was? He said 
no: why then do you detain me in prison, without knowing 
who I am? He continued his work, searching my trunks 
and my secretary; took away every thing that was of metal 
or glass; aiid the guides withdrawing to announce me, as 
they said, to the English ambassador, he offered to conduct 
me to my room. Before 1 went, I told him I should wish 
to have a little explanation with him, but would have need 
for that of some person who could do the office of interpre- 
ter. He asked me in what language? and I said, either in 
English or French. A French captain of a privateer, a 



WIliMAM SAMPSON. 10" 



prisoner of war, was then called upon. After assuring 
myself that no other person then present spoke French, I 
profited hy the moment, to request that he would watch 
where they were ahout to put me, and if possible to find 
means of speaking with me, as I had been a victim of the 
most frightful perfidy, and had reason to expect foul play. 
I was then taken through a long filthy passage to a dun- 
geon: the smell of this approach* which was infectious, gave 
but a disagreeable presentiment of the dwelling to which it 
led: nor was the presage deceitful. A door of solid wood 
was first opened, and then a heavy iron gate, in which was 
an opening or flat hole made hy the divergent direction 
given to the bars, through which a plate or trencher could 
be thrust, in every thing resembling the den of a wild 
beast. The floor was damp; there was no chimney nor 
window; biit high up, next the springing of the arch, for it 
was vaulted, was a square hole; and that the sky as well as 
earth might be hid from the tenant of this gloomy cell, a 
wall was built up before the opening. Nor were the other 
senses more regaled: the roaring noise of prisoners, the 
clinking of chains and the ringing of bars, was all that 
could be heard. 

There was however allowed me a chair and a little table; 
and I had a small travelling mattress, which had fifcst 
served me on board of ship, afterwards at the inns on the 
road, and now more essentially here. This I obtained per- 
mission to have spread upon the damp Hoor. My servant 
was taken to the house of the minister of the police, in 
spite of his entreaties to remain with me. There he met 
a negro servant who spoke English and told him that he 
need fear nothing, for we were in a Christian country. 
John asked him, if he knew where his master and lie were 



108 MEMOIRS OF 

to be sent; whether it was to England or to Hamburg? 
The other said to a better country than either. He asked 
him, if it was to Spain? and he answered, perhaps so, or 
to a better country stilh But as to me, I was not favored 
with any explanation. 

The first thing I requested to have was some tea, which 
was brought with bread and some butter upon a cabbage 
leaf, I asked for a knife, which was refused: I then had 
recourse to my penknife. They desired to see it, laid 
hold of it and kept it. And one of them asked if I had gar- 
ters; for that I must give them up. My patience forsook 
vac, and I asked them whether it was with the intention to 
assassinate me, that they would deprive me of every means 
of self-defence; or if they meant to put in practice some 
atrocity, such as they supposed might drive me to despair, 
that in such case it was better to meet danger than to fly 
from it: and that they should therefore find, from the les~ 
3on I should give them, that I was of a country where for- 
I line had sometimes failed, but courage never. 

Happily this scene had no tragical catastrophe: for after 
the first surprise seignior Joseph Timudo, the deputy- 
gaoler or book-keeper, the same who had first written 
down my name with Joachim, the principal turnkey, both 
approached with extended arms and embraced me, adding 
these fiattcrirg words "gusio midio csio genie:" I love those 
people greatly. I now had credit enough to borrow my 
owii penknife, to eat my bread and butter, but was watch- 
ed all the time by four or five of them, and surrendered it 
up when I had done. 

Shortly after I was left alone a voice spoke through the 
.>iiler key-hole. It was the French captain, to tell me to 
arra myself with courage, for it was said that it was I who 



WILLIAM SAMPSON. 10& 

had made the revolution in Holland. I had only tune to 
answer that it was not true, and that I had never been in 
Holland, when lie was obliged to run away. 

Next morning my doors were opened oy a new set of 
turnkeys (for they changed daily) who saluted me with 
many nauseous compliments; each asking me in his turn if 
I had passed the night w r elh My first care was to see 
whether I could not by money, although I had but little, 
ransom myself from this dungeon. I was told the principal 
governor, seignior Francisco, was then in the country, 
but expected shortly. I asked when the minister was to 
come to see me; and they still said in a few days, but that 
he had too much business at present. 

At length I was fortunate enough to obtain an audience 
of Seignior Francisco. I requested him to put me in some 
place where I should have good air to breathe; a view less 
melancholy, and the society of some person, if such there 
were, like myself, imprisoned without crime, or at least 
without any crime that was degrading. He promised me 
all this, and mentioned some one of my own country, who 
was imprisoned, he said, for something, as he understood* 
of a similar nature. I was then taken up stairs to a very 
small room, where was a Mr. M'Dermott, a master taylor 
and inn-keeper, whose beard was long and bushy, and 
whose crime was free-masonry. 

Had I been a brother mason I might have derived, per- 
haps, some mysterious consolation from this adventure. 
As it was, it was a relief to hear a human voice, instead of 
spending day after day, and night after night, in frightful 
solitude. Mr. M'Dermott, my new companion, had lived 
long in the island of Madeira as well as in Lisbon. His 
conversation was not barren of anecdote and amuse 



MEMOIRS Oi- 

and the window afforded a beautiful view of the river: bm 
to enjoy tliat, it was necessary to climb up and crouch in it. 
The principal objection was that our two mattresses cover- 
ed almost the entire floor, so that there was no room for ex- 
ercise; and this forced me to lie upon the bed, and augment- 
ed the complaint in my chest. 

But whatever consolation I found in the society of my 
present companion, one circumstance in his case gave me 
sensible uneasiness. Whilst he was in secret here, his 
wife and children were confined in another prison for the 
finnic crime, or for misprison of free-masonry. And he 
fieyer could obtain so much from the keepers, as to know 
whether she was enlarged or not. One day, when any 
thing was sent to him by his friends, he thought to have 
discovered in a handkerchief or a napkin a proof that she 
was free: and the next day he was certain of the contrary. 
Tills barbarity towards the wife and children of a man 
charged only with free-masonry, was a bad omen for mine 
should she come to this poor country. 

One night my companion was raised from his bed, 
■ cuffed and taken through the streets to a judge's 
iiouse^ to trial. He told me on his return what passed. 
as asked many questions touching the danger of free- 
masonry to church and king; to which he opposed the in- 
stances of kings and princes that were grand master ma- 
Bonsi and used other arguments, so well put and so well 
taken, that lie obtained, not his enlargement nor that of 
his wife and children, nor any permission to hear from or 
to see them, nor any assurance against their transportation 
or his, but an indulgence, of which I profited as well as 
he, a permission to be shaved. 

About this time my health suffering greatly from close 



WIXLIAM SAMPSON. 

confinement, I demanded another audience of sels 
Francisco, and obtained by like persuasion, to be chajigol 
into a very spacious room, commanding a beautiful 
pect of the harbor, the country and a great part of the 
city. There were at least eight great windows without 
glass; but secured with immense bars of iron lengthways 
on the outside, and a massive cross-grate within: and the 
wall was so thick, that one might have lived in the 
between as in a cage. Upon the whole however it was 
clean and healthy. I need not observe that there was no* 
glazed windows, and this. for two reasons: First, that such 
an article of luxury has yet been but sparingly introduced 
into this kingdom. And secondly, because according tu 
customs of Portugal those committed to prison by the min- 
ister of the police, arc for that reason alone put into secret; 
and being so they are not to be trusted with any thing so 
dangerous as glass, lest they might find the means of evad- 
ing the object of their imprisonment, and rescuing them- 
selves from misery by death. 

But what rendered this place still more commodious 
was three little recesses which belonged to it, which might 
serve as bed-chambers. One of these was allotted to me, 
another to my servant, and the third had been for some 
time occupied by a young Danish nobleman, Mr. A— — -, 
who had been imprisoned here to screen him from the con- 
sequences of some military insubordination, in an emi- 
grant regiment, into which his distresses had driven Mm 
for refuge. Seignior FfanciscOj before he agreed to re- 
move me into this new apartment, had apprised me of the 
company I was to have. He told me that this gentleman, 
who was also a grandee of his country, had been recom- 
mended to him by his ambassador. That the only thing 



112 . memoirs or 

tliat could be disagreeable to me in his society was his too 
great relish for wine. He told me to be cautious of offer- 
ing him any means of exceeding; and told me moreover, 
that the cause of his quitting his own country, where he 
had been of the corps of chasseurs nobles, was a quarrel 
and a duel in which, I understood, he had killed his man; 
and the cause of his being in Portugal, the accidental cap- 
ture of a ship in which he was a passenger. And upon 
the whole, that unless rendered dangerous by wine, his 
disposition was kind and amiable; and all this I found 
afterwards to be true. 

When the gaoler first presented me to him and asked 
his consent that we should live together, he was reading in 
his bed. There was in his countenance a look of sullen 
indignation, which softened greatly towards me. We were 
recommended to each other as two grandees of different 
countries, but under a common misfortune; and I had the 
satisfaction to find him as well pleased as I was with the 
new arrangements. 

But his dislike to the Portuguese was immoderate; and 
as often as the turnkeys came at night to ring the iron 
bars and wish us good rest, or with similar offensive com- 
pliments to examine if we were in our beds in the morning; 
still more, whenever he sat down to table, he was unable to 
contain himself; less so still when they went through the 
daily exercises of Godliness in obliging the prisoners to 
aing prayers. On these occasions, one of the keepers stood 
over them with a stick, and wherever there was any lag- 
ging of devotion he quickened it with a blow. This in- 
strument, you may suppose, produced an effect more strong 
than pleasing, to express which there is no term of music 
or other art that I know of. I never could distinctly hear 



WILLIAM SAMPSON. 113 

the more delicate modulations, in which I had doubtless a 
great loss. Nor could I distinguish the words, but I 
imagined they were Latin, am} as such entitled to my res- 
pect. Taken altogether with the clinking of the chains 
and the sound of the cudgel, it was very far short of what 
we may conceive of choiring angels. The thing might 
please God Almighty, inasmuch as it was done with that 
intention; but it certainly contribjuted nothing to the re- 
creation of my afflicted companion, the noble Dane, whose 
gratification, it was evident, had not been at all consulted. 

Another institution which displeased him, and me no 
less, was in a strong building touching this gaol, and 1 
believe making part of it, and projecting from it at a right 
angle. This was a place of surety for locking up married 
ladies, such as the wives of sea-captains and others, whQ 
went on voyages; to be kept safely until the return of their 
husbands. We had more than once an opportunity of see- 
ing some of them, when on certain holy-days and Sunday?, 
they were allowed to come for a few minutes to a balcony 
which looked into a waste piece of ground. And I could 
not but have a fellow-feeling for them: for if beauty was 
the crime for which they suffered, I can with my hand 
upon my heart, and with all truth and certainty, bear wit- 
ness in their favor, that they were as innocent of the 
charge as I was of high treason. 

My situation, however, was changed for the better, in 
so much that John, who was hitherto excluded, was now 
permitted to imprison himself with me. He was allowed 
also to go out to the market, but as he did not know a 
word of the language, I could profit little by that indul- 
gence. I desired him to go rather to the Exchange, and 
enquire from any English gentleman he might happen to 

p 



I 1-4 MJEMOIRS OF 

see there, whether there were any passengers arrived by 
the packets, and if possible to have some news of his mis- 
tress. He did so, and was questioned in his turn. He 
had the satisfaction to hear some persons express them- 
selves with courage and indignation at the treatment I had 
suffered; but he had also more occasions than one to prove 
how thick the black spell of terror was cast around me. 
For in this country, as it had been in mine, to communi- 
cate with a secret prisoner is to brave destruction. I shall 
relate to you a short anecdote, which may very well serve 
to illustrate this observation. 

Whilst I was locked up with the free-mason, I heard 
i wo men talking without upon a terrace opposite the win- 
dow: they did not sec us, for there were two buttresses or 
blinds built up to prevent any communication with oth- 
er parts of the prison: but as I heard them abusing the 
minister and calling him by the gross epithet of jillio da 
jmta (son of a wh — e) I thought that those who disrespect- 
ed him so much, might have some feeling for such as he 
oppressed. I called to them and requested they would 
speak to me. They came, and at first were affable 
enough. They asked me if I was a Frenchman, suppos- 
ing me probably to be only a prisoner of war? I an- 
swered that I was not, but an unfortunate stranger, put 
into secret without any crime or charge whatever; and that 
I could not even have the satisfaction of getting any per- 
son to speak to: nor I either, says one of them, will not 
speak to you, and in an instant they both disappeared. 

After being now for so long a time deprived of all means 
of writing, paper, pen and ink were now set designedly before 
me; I did not attempt to profit by it, as I feared to commit 



WIlLIAM SAMJPSOxY. Uli 

on in my misfortunes, and had made up my mind 
ientJy the denouement. 

>mpl >yed to sweep the room, and afterwards 
xh negligence or intention, to keep the key, a Rus- 
icied of robbery. He had been a sailor in the 
E 3fo navy 9 and spoke English fluently: he also spoke 
(' ortuguese sufficiently, and the I anish and German, 
besides his own, and possibly some other languages. He 
made no denial of his crime, which was that of having 
taken a man's watch and pushed him in the water. He 
contented himself, which was better, with giving it a fa- 
vorable version and a delicate turn. He was notwith- 
standing of an order superior to the rest. He was zealous 
and compassionate, even without interest. He often en- 
treated me to be kind to the unfortunate gentleman beside 
me, and was officious in stealing a cup of tea to my first 
companion, M'Dermott. He at different times borrowed 
money from me to lay out in candle's and tobacco, in which 
articles he dealt: but always, unless when he had an "un- 
fortunate run at play, repaid me honorably. He gave me 
ence a particular proof of his skill in his art: for after 
telling me a touching story of a poor prisoner in secret 
wlio wished to write to his wife, he borrowed a little silver- 
ed ink-bottle from my secretary, which had been shortly 
before restored to me; and having lost that, he borrowed 
the sand bottle, its companion, as a model to nave it re- 
placed, leaving me in some regret, for my loss, but in grand 
admiration of his talents and resources. 

He besides possessed a subtle diplomatic cast of mind; 
and seeing my reluctance to write, he was employed to 
bend me to the purpose in hand. Are you not, says he, a 
British subject; and have you not your minister to apply 



116 MEMOIRS OS" 

to? No British subject can be arrested here, but by the 
warrant of the Judge Conservador; and if he is, the Eng- 
lish minister has but to speak one word, and he is set at 
liberty. I speak from what I know, says he, for I have 
seen many English prisoners here, and that has always 
been the case. Tow must have committed some terrible 
crime and ran away from your country without any pass- 
port, and that makes you afraid to speak. 

I listened with astonishment to a discourse so ingenious, 
and answered bluntly, that I had committed no crime, 
nor was charged with none; that I had not run away from 
my country, but had come with the most authentic pass- 
ports; that I was not afraid to speak to any minister or to 
any man living; but that Mr. Walpole was to my certain 
knowledge as well informed of every thing respecting me 
as any letter of mine could make him. God help you 
then, says he, for you will be sent like a convict over the 
bar! He added, that though it was as bad as death to him 
if it was discovered that he let me write, nevertheless he 
would incur the risque for my sake. 

My reluctance to write to Mr. Walpole arose from the 
rttmost moral certainty that I could tell him nothing new: 
besides I had seen ill a newspaper which the Danish gen- 
ileman had received from his ambassador, that the state 
prisoners of Ireland, in violation of the pledged faith of 
government and the honor of lord Cornwall is, had been 
transported to a fortress in the Highlands of Scotland. 

To the agreement made with them, as I have before said, 
the faith of government and the honor of lord Cornwallis 
had been pledged in such a manner, that the chancell&i' 
Clare, who negotiated for the lord lieutenant, had made 
ise of those memorable words, It comes t6 this, &wiher 



WILMAM SAMPSON. 1 L7 

you must tritst the government, or it must trust ijou: and the 
government that could violaie an engagement so solemnly en- 
tered into, could neither stand nor deserve to stand," Sucli 
was the sacred character given to this engagement, to 
which I was also a party, by the minister who was the 
agent in it. Another of these ministers, lord Castlereagh, 
as I have before stated, acknowledged to another of the 
prisoners (Doctor M'Nevin) "that thcij (the prisoners J 
had honorably fulfilled their part, 9 ' and assured them, "that 
the government would as religiously observe its part.- 9 
And Mr. Cooke only desired to know of the prisoners 
"how much time wduld be necessary for them to dispose of 
their property previous to their going abroad " Yet now I 
found that they were, in defiance of every obligation by 
which men not lost irredeemably to honor could be 
bound, to be once more emerged in dungeons; and now, at 
the time I write to you, four long years of the flower of 
their lives have been consumed in hard captivity! 

Of what avail then, to draw distinctions between their 
ease and mine? To say that I did not invite the French* 
that I had labored to save the lives of my enemies, that I 
had endeavored to prevent both civil war or bloodshed, 
that I had sacrificed every thing to love and compassion 
for my country. If the certainty that I was pure, hu- 
mane and disinterested, could be any protection to me, it 
would have been so to others; for amongst those immolated 
to the daemon of destruction, were men of as perfect truth, 
and as exalted virtue, as ever yet the light of heaven had 
shone on. No! but the love of country w r as the general 
crime. Corruption was the thing to be destroyed or be 
maintained; and those wlio lived by it, who rioted in it, 
could never forgive those who would oppose it. This was 



I i S MEMOIRS OT 

the great secret. They knew it and I knew it. But they 
knew that I had exposed it with some effect, and I was 
never to be forgiven. I might indeed, and could upon just 
occasion, forgive; hut they could not. 

u Forgiveness to the injured does belong; 
"They never Can forgive that do the wrong." 

1 scorned, therefore, to draw any distinction between 
my case and that of any other of the prisoners. They 
were rebels undoubtedly, and so was I. I had not invited 
Hie French; but my enemies had invited the Hessians. 
And I did not hesitate to say, that in the general prostra- 
tion of law, constitution, humanity and justice,* whilst the 
heaven was red with the confiscations of cottages in 
flames, and the earth crimsoned with the blood of human 
victims; whilst the groans of those agonizing in torture, 
ascended with the thick smoke that rolled as the incense 
of cannibals to the idols of their bloody worship; when 
justice winked as she went by, and villany exulted; and 
the tears of innocence deflowered, dropped heedless and 
unavenged upon the blood-stained earth; whilst the dark- 
ness alone sheltered the houseless fugitives from their pur- 
suers* and the despairing mother, lurking in the hiding 
places of the wild tenants of the fields, stretched outlier 
powerless hands to feel if her shivering offspring, without 
other covering than the mantle of the nigltf, were yet alive 
and near her! I did not hesitate to say, in such a moment. 
we must rebel/ we must not be disarmed! Whatever spe- 
cious pretext may be urged for the commission of such 
Crimes, they are not to be endured by honorable men: but 
V be committed in furtherance of usurpation and of 
>ery, they are to be resisted as treasons of the blackest 



WILLIAM sAMrsox. 110 

die. Horrid alternative! On the one hand stood rebellion, 
on the other treason and murder! The fury of pad;. Ief1 
no middle course. I preferred rebellion to murder and 
treason, and it is for this that traitors have called 1119 
traitor, whilst I have cast the appellation in their teeth 
I do call heaven to witness, that in whatever I have done 
against my enemies, further than a few sportive sallies of 
imagination, with which I have been charged, I have nev- 
er, listened to any other voice than that of conscience; and 
that neither interest nor resentment ever governed ine, 
nor did I yield too easily to the warm feelings of my heart. 
I never acted but from conviction that I was scrupulously 
right. It required courage to face the dangers of those 
times; and, 

"Where I could not be just, I neyjbr yet wam 



I would not willingly be a rebel, yet if driven to the cru- 
el extremity of deciding between treason and rebellion, j 
felt for which I was best fitted, and that I should rather d»t> 
a rebel, than live a traitor. You may judge, however, 
with what confidence I could address a minister, whom I 
knew to be already in possession of my case; and who had, 
for so great a length of time, left it unnoticed, and me iw 
protected. Yet that no blame might be imputed to me 
hereafter, for my omitting to accept of this occasion, or au> 
pretext remain to my enemies to misrepresent the facts, !, 
oBsented, as you shall be informed in my next. 



120 MEMOIRS Otf 



XETTER XV 



Mr, Walpole~Jl Trick — Minister of Police — Correspond 
ence — Sweet Meats. 



I began my letter to Mr. Walpole, by referring him 
to the communications which I knew had been already 
made to him: reminding him, very respectfully, of the pro- 
tection it was his duty to afford me, and how little it would 
tend to his good reputation hereafter, when better times 
should come, and enquiries be made, to have been consent- 
ing to so very refined and barbarous an execution, of a man 
to whom he could impute no crime. I told him, moreover, 
of the dangerous state of my health, and requested, that 
since, he] would not see me, a medical person might 
at least be allowed to visit me. I added, that upon 
the faith of a solemn agreement, I had written to my wife 
and children to come to me. And that all communication 
between us having been intercepted, I remained in a state 
of most cruel uncertainty, and therefore begged for permis- 
sion to write, in order to prevent, if it were not yet too 
late, so great a calamity. I told him, that cut off from 
all pecuniary resources, I wished to discharge a servant, 
who had already, for being my servant, suffered torture 
and imprisonment; and that my papers, which were the 
guarantees of my personal safety, being seized, I begged 
they might be restored to me. For the rest, I was better 
pleased to remain where I now was, than to be exposed to 
any new insult or atrocity. 



WIlIilAM SAMPSON. 121 

A messenger was called who, instead of taking my lettev 
to the British ambassador, took it to the intendente of the 
police, which I discovered from him on his return to he 
paid, and complained of it to the gaolers. They all with 
one consent set up a hyprocritical lamentation for the ruin 
brought upon them by permitting me to write. I paid no 
more regard to this, than to any other of their vile farces, 
but offered Joachim a crwza&a nova, to carry another 
letter to the British ambassador, and bring me an answer. 
I wrote without any opposition and without any difficulty. 
Joachim undertook to carry my letter. This letter was 
only to inform Mr. Walpole, that a former one addressed 
to him had been carried to the intendente of the police* 
and to request that he would have the goodness to send 
Cor it, and favor me with an answer. 

ANSWER. 

Lisbon, April IT, 1799. 
Sir, 

AS I have no intercourse With the intendente 
of the police, to authorise me to send for the letter you al- 
lude to, I must confine myself to acknowledging the re* 
ceipt of that which has been just delivered to me, 
And am, Sir, 

Four most obedient humble servant, 

Robt. Waxpole. 

The next day I sent my servant with a guide to Mr. 
Walpole's, who delivered him a letter as nearly as possible 
in the words of that which had been given to the intendente 
of the police, and received this answer: 



122 MEMOIBS Q$ 

Lisbon, April 18, 1799, 
Sir, 

I have received your letter of this morning; 
that to which you refer of yesterday, has not yet been de- 
livered to me. I shall make application for the leave you 
request, which I have no doubt will be granted to yoiu 
/ am, Sir, 

Your most obedient humble servant, 

Robt. Walfole. 

I waited some days without further result; and again 
sent my man, /who returned with the following letter: 

Lisbon, April 21, 1799. 
Sir, 

I must assure you, that I immediately compli- 
ed with my promise, of making the application you re- 
quired of me by your letter of Friday evening, and I re- 
ceived an answer from the secretary of state, that orders 
were given by the intendente to report upon the subject of 
your imprisonment. I was in hopes that some speedier 
method might have been adopted in regard to what more 
immediately in point of humanity concerns you personally. 
I shall immediately renew my application, which I hope 
will be attended to. 
I am, Sir, 

Your most obedient humble servant, 

Robt. Waxpole. 

On this as on the former occasion, my servant had been 
sent to the house of Mr. Mathews (so I think his name 
was) the secretary of Mr. Walpole. He was kindly 
treated by this gentleman, as also by a lady at his house, 



WILLIAM SAMfSON. 125 

who expressed much concern for me, and sent me as a 
present a pot of conserves of Brazil. 

But they told my man, that I was to he sent on hoard 
an English ship of war to an English prisonship at Gib- 
raltar; and when he murmured against such injustice in 
the English government, from whose ministers alone such 
orders could proceed, he was cautioned hy the lady to 
hold his tongue, and advised, if he should he interrogated, 
to say nothing, hut merely that he was my servant and 
ignorant of my affairs; otherwise she said it might he 
worse for him than for me. 



LETTER XVI. 



vl/t Accoucheur — Difficulties — Intendente, 

AT length came the doctor: I do not recollect his 
tiame, hut I understood he was the accoucheur of the in- 
tendant's lady. He so far differed from the bridewell 
doctor, that he treated me with respect and good manners. 
He excused his minister from all share in my persecution, 
assuring me that his lordship was very sorry for me, and 
very much concerned for what I was made to suffer. He 
complimented me on my patience, which he called animo 
grande: he said justly, that it was not of medicines I had 
need for the restoration of my health, but of liberty and 
tranquility, and that nothing was so dangerous for me as 
a prison. He promised to use all his interest with the in- 
tendente in my favor, and asked me, what country I should 



£24 MEMOIRS OF 

like to go to? mentioning several times France and Spain. 
I answered, that having been so long deprived of all politi- 
cal intelligence, I could not tell what countries were in al- 
liance with England, what were in hostility, or what were 
neutral. Or in the strange changes that succeeded each 
other, how long any country might remain in its present 
posture. But as to the two countries he had named, 
France and Spain, I could not consent to go to either of 
them, because I had made an agreement; to which it was 
iny intention as to every other of my life, to be true; at 
least until it should be so flagrantly broken on the other 
part, as to leave me no choice. I then explained to him 
the labyrinth of vexations in which I was involved. To 
France or Spain I could not go, because those countries 
being at war with the king of England, it might be made 
a pretext for subjecting me to the penalties of high treason, 
and serve at least as a justification for the crimes already 
committed against ine* That my going to a neutral coun- 
try, or even to one in alliance with the king of England, 
might be turned to my disadvantage, as I was obliged, 
before I could get out of bridewell, to give security that I 
should go to Portugal, and remain there during the con- 
tinuance of the war. And if I went home or to any part 
of the British dominions, I was a felon by act of parlia- 
ment, and transportable to Botany-Bay: and though that 
parliament had shortly after this atrocious law annihilated 
itself, yet "The mischief that men do, lives after them." 

Amongst all the neutral countries of which I thought, 
two only seemed free from objection, Genoa and Hamburg. 
The former I might have preferred on account of its cli- 
mate; the latter on account of its proximity to my own, 
and the greater facility of having communication with my 



WIELIAM SAMPSOST. 125 

family; with either I should have heen contented. You 
know> however, to what unexampled misery the one was 
afterwards reduced hy the war, and how in the other the 
rights of nations and of hospitality have heen violated in a 
degree beyond what had ever before happened amongst 
the hordes of the deserts. Thus it is, that mean and jea- 
lous tyranny hems in its victims on every side with snares 
and dangers. 

I do not know whether what I said to this gentleman 
might have surprised his sensibility, or whether the symp- 
toms he betrayed were counterfeited; but they were those 
of strong emotion; and he promised to repeat all I had 
said to the intendente with equal force, and hoped to ob- 
tain for me the permission to remain in Portugal as I de- 
sired: Though he said it might be under some restrictions* 

After some days he returned and told me, that the min- 
ister had been very much affected by my story, and that, 
particularly when he mentioned the chain of difficulties 
by which I was encompassed, that he had started as if with 
surprise and agitation, and desired him to repeat the dif- 
ferent points, that he might write them down. He advis- 
ed me also to write to the intendente a letter in English, 
but to be cautious to use such terms of deference as our 
language afforded, and to call him my lord; and upon the 
whole to use the stile which, being translated into Portu- 
guese, as it would be, should be found most agreeable to 
the usages of that country, and shew a due consideration 
of his quality. 

I thanked him for his friendly intimation and complied 
to the best of my power. My letter was sent: and I think 
it was on the following day I was called into the same hall 
where I first made my entree; and there, in the presence 



126 MEMOIHS Oif 

of the gaoler, I received from the hands of an officer of 
the police, my papers for which I gave him a receipt. 
They were all numbered in a certain order, as if they had 
served as references to some statement; and I think they 
had the air of having recently arrived from England! 
The only one of any curiosity that I could miss, was that 
famous letter with which Mr. Sealy took upon him to in- 
sult me, touching Ms political principles. Why this gen- 
tleman's letter was taken from among the rest, I do not 
know. It could not surely be, that he was in the manage* 
incut of this affair, and wished to suppress a production 
which might one day turn to his shame. 



LETTER XVII. 



Tried again — Acquitted — Attempt at suicide — My danger — ■ 
Dungeons described — Jurisprudence — My fears— ^Antonio 

—Italian nobleman — Lady Cruel perfidy-^— English 

threats — Gibraltar prison-ship — Another Gaol. 

BEFORE I proceed further I must mention one or 
two occurrences which happened about this time. One 
night I Was at supper with the Danish gentleman* 
when Joachim, the most odious of the turnkeys, came to 
nie> and abruptly desired me to put on my coat and take 
off my bonnet, for that the judge Was waiting for me to 
appear bef6re him: I smiled at his official gravity, but did 
as he desired, and followed him to another part of the pri* 
son* which I believe might not have been entirely con- 



WIXLIAM SAMPSON. ) 4 

$tructed for the use of kings and queens, and was taken 
up a narrow ladder through a trap-door and into a cock- 
loft, where the court was sitting. This august tribunal 
consisted of two mean-looking persons, the judge and \nu 
clerk, who sat facing each other at a table. I was placed 
on a diagonal line with a good deal of method, as if to have 
my picture drawn; and near me was placed a genteel 
looking person, whom I at first took for some high emana- 
tion from the court; but found afterw ards to be Mr. Keg- 
nier, the gaoler of another prison, who w T as brought there 
to serve as interpreter: from which, and more that I had 
occasion to observe, I concluded that a gaoler in this 
country is a person of more dignity than a judge, In- 
deed I had, before going into that despotic country, been 
prepared by what I had witnessed, to receive such an 
impression. 

I was now led through nearly the same absurdities as in 
Oporto, except that this judge dwelt much upon the story 
and name of Oliver Bond, and seemed to doubt that a gov- 
ernment could make such an agreement, to accept of one 
man's banishment to save the life of another, I told him 
that the fact w r as so, and that he might write it down, and 
I would sign it. But I told him that it was not I who 
singly signed this act of self-devotion, to save the single 
life of Oliver Bond; for however willing I might have 
been, that man was too brave and too generous to have 
accepted such a sacrifice; but that I was one of many 
who, after braving every accuser, had subscribed to a mea- 
sure presented under a very different form from what per- 
fidy had since given it, in the hopes of putting a stop to 
that system, of which the atrocity will hereafter rank in 
history with whatever has been perpetrated of most fouL 



1£S MEMOIRS OP 

I owned that such a sacrifice must appear difficult of 
belief to those who had never seen nor felt the influence of 
public spirit, nor the love of their species or their country; 
yet that acts of generosity infinitely beyond that, were 
common even amongst the poorest and most oppressed in 
my country. He then asked me, what had been the 
questions put to me in Oporto, when I was examined there? 
I told him they were much the same as those he had asked 
me, and that my answers were of course the same; as I had 
but one answer, and that was the truth, for all persons and 
all occasions: that my persecution was a violation of jus- 
tice and a scandalous indecency, as useless as shameful to 
its authors; that it was founded upon disgraceful perfidy, 
and therefore I requested he would put a speedy end to it* 
He said he would submit what had been written down to 
his superiors; and I, after reading it over, and finding it 
to contain nothing of any importance, subscribed my name 
to it, and Joachim led me back with a less stern aspect to 
my companion. 

As to this gentleman, his impatience encreased daily. 
One evening in particular, he received a note from his am- 
bassador which nettled him. He had been that day below 
among the French prisoners, and had drank more wine 
than was good for him, and he suddenly after supper 
snatched away a knife which I had concealed from the 
eyes of the gaolers, and retired into his own room shutting 
the door after him. John, mistrusting his intentions, 
watched him through the key -hole, and gave the alarm just 
in time for us both with all our force to burst the door open, 
and prevent his putting an end to his existence. He had 
made a long but superficial cut in his neck; but the blunt- 
i) ess of the knife and the surprize of the door bursting 



WILLIAM SAMPSON. 1&9 

ppen, bad prevented the final execution of his project: and 
| was told afterwards, that it was happy for me I had been 
fortunate enough to save his life, as mine might have been 
made to answer for it. And indeed there is little doubt 
that my enemies would have rejoiced in so fortunate a 
means of at once getting rid of my complaints, and of 
branding forever a name which hitherto all their malice 
could not sully. 

The shame and humiliation which followed this frus- 
trated attempt, rendered this young man still more mis- 
erable: and yet he was to be envied in comparison with 
some other inmates of this castle. There were dungeons 
where human beings had lived long enough to forget their 
own names, wearing out their days in darkness, nakedness 
and hunger. Too happy if folly or madness came at last 
to rescue them from the consciousness of what they were. 

The whole science of criminal jurisprudence in Portu- 
gal is this; to throw the suspected person into a secret 
dungeon, which is aptly called in their judicial phrase, 
Inferno (Hell.) Here the wretch remains until he is re- 
ported fit to be examined. If he confesses, he is put into 
irons, and either condemned as a slave, to work in chains* 
or sent to Goa or the American plantations. If he does 
not confess he remains in his dungeon. I mentioned to 
one of the gaolers my sense of this hardship, as an obsti 
nate guilty person might deny the truth, whilst an inno- 
cent one, less courageous, might very readily, to relieve 
himself from such a state of misery, make a false con^ 
fession: his answer was laconic, "logo confesse" they 
soon confess. 

All these things I could have viewed as an observer, for 
my own mind was strongly made up to every exigence; 

R 



ISO MEMOIRS OF 

but the thoughts of an innocent wife and children, who 
might be the victims of such barbarity, were too painful 
for repose. For besides the instance of the free mason's 
wife, I had learned one which touched me much nearer. 
The last occupier of my present apartment had been an 
Italian nobleman of high rank and fortune, who had been 
sent out of England under the alien law, for political no- 
tions displeasing to the court. His lady, who was Eng- 
lish, had been ordered to Lisbon for her health. Whilst 
he was imprisoned in the castle of St. George, she was 
dungeoned in secret in a separate prison, where she re- 
mained some time, spitting blood. During this her most 
private letters were seized upon and read, and she was at 
length released only to be sent on board an English man 
of war to Gibraltar, and from thence to the coast of Bar- 
bary. I have known that lady since, and she certainly 
never could have deserved that treatment or been capable 
of giving offence to any government. 

What then might be the treatment reserved for my wife* 
should she arrive? Such was the consideration which 
occupied my mind, leaving me otherwise insensible to all 
the little tricks and vexations I was exposed to. And 
what heightened these feelings was the treachery of the 
turnkey, Antonio, who boasted of the sums he had received 
from this unfortunate gentleman in the moments of his 
impatience, by different impostures and duperies; amongst 
others, that of promising to manage an interview between 
him and his lady by a subterraneous passage; through 
which he pretended a coach could pass, and of which, he 
said, he had the key; and that no doubt might remain of 
this infamy, he produced and offered to sell to me the ven 
fetters which he had been so largely bribed to deliver. 



WILLIAM SAMPSON. 13 i 

But to quit these details, which would swell my letter 
"beyond moderate hounds, and return to my story: I have 
already mentioned that my papers were delivered to me hy 
an officer. This same officer gave me notice to prepare 
for quitting this prison immediately. He told me that on 
that evening I was to he removed to another place, pre- 
vious to my being embarked: hut he would not tell me 
where I was to he removed, nor to what country embark- 
ed: but said that I was to have an interview in the evening 
with the British and Portuguese ministers, and every 
thing would be settled. Upon this he went away, and I 
locked up my papers in my travelling secretary. Scarcely 
had I done this before I was desired to give up all my 
effects, in order that they might be sent before me to the 
place where I was going: so tbat had I beeu so disposed, I 
could make no use of any of the recommendations they 
contained. 

The first thing that occurred to me was to make Jolni 
avail himself of his permission to go to the market; and 
instead of doing so, to go to the English ambassador's, 
and enquire into the truth. He did so, and received for 
answer, that Mr. Walpole was so dangerously ill, that his 
lady dared not put the dispatches before him to he signed, 
and that the packet was detained for that reason. 

Upon this I wrote to the intendente; John earned the 
letter. He saw this minister, who told him that he Would 
have the letter interpreted by his linguist, and that an an- 
swer should be sent to his master in the evening. 

I next requested the doctor to come to me, who complied^ 
but only answered me dryly, that these things were done 
very suddenly in Portugal. I was however as dry with 
Itiui, and the only one to whom I shewed aliy friendship on 



132 MEMOIRS Oi 

parting', was the Russian robber: for with all bis vices on 
his head, he had more of the features of humanity. Per- 
haps I may have judged too hardly of the doctor, if it 
should appear so in future, I shall be ready to make him 
all atonement in my power. One thing in his favor, I 
must confess, was the jealousy the others seemed to enter- 
tain of him. 

In the evening came two officers of police to take me 
and my servant away. We were called down to be de- 
livered to them; and each of them putting bis hand into his 
pocket, produced a string of hard whip-cord, for the pur- 
pose of tying our hands. One of them took me aside, and 
told me, with many compliments, that though he had strict 
orders from the minister to tie my bands, yet seeing the 
kind of person I appeared to be, he would disobey, in 
hopes, however, that I would acknowledge his complai- 
sance. I made no other answer than by bringing him for- 
ward, and calling upon him, at his peril, to tie my hands, 
if such were his orders* as it was my intention, at a proper 
time, to throw the responsibility of all these insults where 
it was due. This produced debate, and the project of ty- 
ing me was over-ruled, 

I should now, before I take leave of the castle of St. 
George, mention the humble trophy I raised in honor of 
the virtue I most prize, and in revenge for the many perfi- 
dies I had experienced. My chief amusement had been 
scratching with charcoal some rude designs upon the walls 
of my recess, which John had embellished with festoons of 
oranges: With a morsel of this charcoal, I hastily traced 
the following passage, which, if I remember well, is to be 
found in the tragedy of Douglas: 



WIIXIAM SAMPSON". 1$& 

. . . "Sincerity, 

Thou first of virtues, let no mortal leave 

Thy onward path, although the earth should gape, 

And from the gulph of hall damnation cry 

To take dissimulation's winding way." 

Such was the rehuke I addressed to my enemies, and the 
counsel I bequeathed to my successors. And now, my 
friend, before we enter into other dungeons, let us take 
a further pause* 



LETTER XVIII. 

Mctumal Mgration — Other Prison — More nauseous Dun- 
geon — Hunting by Candle-Light. 

I was no sooner seated in the carriage with my 
new conductor, than he began to overwhelm me with ex- 
cuses and compliments, and became officious in his efforts 
to amuse me; and pointed out whatever was curious as 
we passed, the night being tolerably clear. I recollect 
his mentioning a column in memory of the execution of 
the grandees who conspired against their king; a royal 
palace; the street inhabited by the gold-smiths, and various 
other objects. He entreated me often to forgive him, and 
promised in return to see me lodged in the best apartment 
of the prison where we were going; intimating, that as it 
was only a part of the gaoler's house, it might not be diffi- 
cult to escape. 
On our road we called at another prison, where we 



kH MEMOIRS OF 

took up two other persons, a gentleman and his servant; 
so that our cavalcade consisted of four carriages. My 
conductor told me, that this was a gentleman of my coun- 
try; that he would give orders to have us put together. 
And I was in hopes to have at length obtained the compa- 
ny of some person in whose misfortunes I might sympa- 
thize; perhaps some victim like myself, banished to make 
room for the auspicious union' of his country with Great- 
Britain. But when we arrived at the gaol of Belem, the 
order of procession was inverted, and the other prisoners 
went in first, so that for this time I saw no more of them; 
though from henceforth their sufferings and mine were in 
some sort to be identified. 

I was detained some time in a small room of the gaol- 
er, until a negress was brought through, who had reason 
to welcome me, as she was released from her secret dun- 
geon in order to make room for me. I was then locked 
up with my servant in a little hole, foul and filthy beyond 
description. The space of it was scarcely more than the 
area of a coach. There was in it a commodity, of which 
the smell was infectious. The walls were bedaubed with 
ordure; and for light and air, there was only a square 
orifice, through which a cat could not creep, near two fath- 
oms in length, sloping upwards towards the sky. And there 
was, for more security at the outer end, a bar of iron. This 
threw upon the opposite wall a spectrum of the size of a 
man's hand, where any object became visible, the rest was 
utter darkness. There was in it no article of furniture; 
but my mattrass was allowed for me, and John lay down 
upon the floor. 

It would be impossible to express what I suffered during 
tkis night, from the difficulty of breathing in this suffocate 



WILLIAM SAMPSON. 13* 

i«g bote, and from the vermin with which it abounded. 
Lackily we had a flint and steel, and from time to time, 
when we could suffer no longer, we suddenly struck a 
, and endeavored to take the hugs and fleas that iu~ 
I us by surprize, and so destroy them. 
|n the morning the gaoler came to visit me, and lament- 
ed that the strict orders delivered to him from the minister 
by the officer who conducted me, obliged him to lodge n* 
so incommodiously. I told him that there must be gross 
treachery somewhere, as this officer had promised to lodge 
me in the best apartment in his house; and that I should 
be indulged in the company of another gentleman of my 
own country. He persisted that his orders were to put 
me in the very dungeon where the negress had been* an*} 
there was no appeal! 



LETTER XIX, 



Not quite so bad — Music — Amours of various Colours — -lit-- 
lays of State — The Saints—Something like Tom Pipes. 

I found, however, through the gaoler, the means of 
having the door left open in the day time, and soon after 
for a sum of money was removed into an adjoining room, 
nearly of the same size but more clean, and where there 
was a bedstead. Opposite the door in the corridor there 
was a barred window, but I was put upon honor not to ap- 
pear at it. 

I had now, however, for a companion, several hours 



i36 MEMOIRS 0¥ 

every day, a son of the gaoler, an organist to one of the 
churches: he took pleasure in English airs and country, 
dances; and I wrote him down from memory some that he 
liked best. I had also a German flute, but could play but 
tittle on account of my breast, which was still painful. 

There was also a young officer, whose father had put 
him here until he could be sent to Goa, because he would 
&ot marry to please him. The negress had been confined 
for a crime of a like tender nature, but differing in cir- 
cumstances; for her lover was a young man of family, and 
it was feared so enslaved to her charms, that he would 
marry her. For this his family had used its power to de- 
prive the poor wench of her liberty and the world of so, 
bright an ornament. 

The gaoler, at length, for obvious reasons, became more 
propitious: and upon my paying his coach-hire, put on his 
diced coat, his black velvet breeches, and his sword; ana* 
either did, or said he did, make one or more visits to the 
Intendente on my behalf. But here, as before, the delays 
of state intervened. It was either a church-holiday, or a 
birth day, or a wedding anniversary, or a Sunday, or a 
rejoicing day, or a hunting-day, or Good-Friday, or East^ 
er-Day. All the saints were inauspicious to me — St. Poly- 
carpe, St. Hildegonde, St. Beuve, and all. In short, 
among so many idle days, no moment could be spared 
from pleasure or devotion for the relief of the unfortunate 
or oppressed. 

I bore all with patience; until at length I was told, 
that I must write, not as before, in English, but in Portu- 
guese, to the intendente of the police himself. This was 
rather hard for me, who had but two or three months to 
learn the language, and that without the slightest instruc 



WUXIAM SAMPSON*. \37 

^ioiis. I begged of my patron to assist me, as I was igno- 
rant in what terms to address so great a personage as fits 
superior. 

He complied, and the first wqrds he dictated were 
seuo qfflitto creado, your afflicted servant. I objected to 
this, as though it might be proper for his minister it was 
not what was due to myself. He di4 not seem well to 
comprehend my objection; so I was forced to sacrifice my 
pride, and give him carte blanche, promising to copy what- 
ever he should write. But I could not shut my eyes 
against the striking resemblance which my situation bore 
to that of Topi Pipes, when he applied to the village 
school-master for a letter to Emily, after wearing out the 
original in his shoe. This epistle, which was no uncuri- 
ous production, being finished, my patron charged him 
self with the delivery of it: and I was not certainly the 
worse for his protection, for my restraints were much re- 
laxed. I was allowed to go to the window where I could 
converse freely with the family of the governor in the 
court belpw. 



LETTER XX. 



Better — The Ladies — The Mirror — Prospect— Ladies Eyes- 
Bow and Arrows — Bad shot— -Hopes still. 



I had nothing for it now but patience, and I en- 
deavored to profit by every means of amusement that offer- 
ed. There were two g;irls who diverted themselves riding 

s 



138 MEMOIRS OE 

upon an ass through the yard, and each had a stick to 
beat it with. I begged for the sticks, which were given 
mo through my bars. One of them was a vine, and be- 
came afterwards an instrument of great interest. To one 
of these sticks I fastened a shaving-mirror, and could, by 
holding it up before the window, command a view of the 
gaoler's room above me, and converse with the ladies of 
the mansion who could see me in like manner. And again, 
by adding the length of the other stick, I could see over 
the wall, and have by that means, looking up through two 
bars, a beautiful prospect of the harbor towards the sea, 
including the castle of Belem. At all times I have taken 
delight in such views, but I cannot say how much my mind 
was now enlivened by this gay and busy scene. I watch- 
ed all the manoeuvres, and observed all the colors of so 
many ships of different nations, going to sea, or returning 
from their voyages; but envied most those whom I saw 
amusing themselves in skiffs of pleasure. 1 had beside* 
the satisfaction of discovering- the position I was in near 
the water's edge. 

One day, whilst busied in this exercise, I observed that 
I had turned the reflection of the sun upon the eyes of a 
young lady in an opposite window. There was between 
her and me the distance not only of the prison-yard, but 
of a broad street besides; so that the only way I had of 
apologizing, was by desisting: X dismounted the ma- 
chine, made her a respectful bow, and laid it aside. And 
taking up the flute, endeavored the best I could to make 
amends; and was in my turn repaid by the condescention 
with which she staid to listen. 

Though this young person was a very deserving object 
of admiration, I had for paying my court to her a motive 



WILLIAM SAMTSOIf. 139 

more justifiable than that of gallantry, and warranted by 
the strictest fidelity. The persons in whose hands I was, 
were in the middle of their greatest kindnesses impenetra- 
bly secret; their office was to keep me deprived of liberty, 
and also of every means of attaining; it. The least and 
most caressing of the children had been instructed in the 
school of mystery. I naturally longed for some acquaint- 
ance who was not under circumstances of necessary en- 
mity to my wishes: and I could see no great objection that 
the first person that offered should he young and handsome, 
and of that sex to which alone I could ever consent to 
humble myself. I therefore encouraged the hope, that by 
gaining the favor of the young lady, I might in some way 
profit by her friendship, though I could not say in what 
manner. In this view I manufactured the vine into a bow, 
and the oM box into arrows, and began by shooting at 
marks in the yard, letting the children win a few vintim 
pieces to keep them in my interest, and in this manner 
concealed my project. On one of the arrows, instead of 
feathers, I fixed a paper, on which was written a billet in 
the Portuguese language, couched nearly in these terms: 
«If youth and beauty be not deceitful, and that you can be 
sensible to the undeserved misfortunes of a stranger, give 
me some tokens of your permission, which I shall faith- 
fully respect, and I shall communicate much more." This 
done, I shot the arrow at her window. It unluckily hit 
against the frame, and bounded back into the street, and 
shortly afterwards I saw her father enter with it in his 
hand, and assemble in a groupe, this young lady, another 
malicious laughing little girl, and an elderly person that I 
took to be a governante. I was in great anxiety lest I 
had been the cause of pain where it was so much my in- 



140 MEMOIRS OF 

terest as well as my wish to please. But when I saw the 
dear young lady pat the cheeks of her father, and that 
he suffered such tender play, my fears vanished, and I 
even went the length to hope that he also had seen the 
thing hi the true light and become my friend. I therefor^ 
renewed my diligence, and finding by her gestures that 
she no longer approved of my first mode of communication, 
I broke some of my arrows in her view in token of obedi- 
ence; and invented in their place a better stratagem, if 
such a name can be given to so loyal a manner of making 
known one's griefs. I hollowed out an orange rhind, and 
with a thread unravelled from a stocking, contrived to 
throw it over the wall next the sea when the tide was not full. 
In the same manner if I had been happy enough to have 
been favored with an answer, I could have drawn it up. 
Nor w as I without hope; for whether it was the illusion of 
an imagination in search of some agreeable deception, or 
a substantial, material fact, I thought I felt a little twitch 
at the end of the cord: I thought I felt it in my fingers: I 
am sure I felt it in my heart. If you, a philosopher, skilled 
in tl\e wonderful works of nature, and deeply read in her 
mysterious books, can tell me what principle it was that 
could communicate by so frail and flimsy a conductor as 
an old stocking-thread through the stone walls and iron 
bars of a flinty gaol, a fire more rapid than the electric 
spark; a movement more subtle than the galvanic fluid, 
you will relieve me from some curious doubts. What, you 
will say, was the effect? from that we may discover the 
cause. It was a kind of sudden vibration of gratitude, 
hope, joy, and what not. Perhaps, if duty and inclination 
had not long since taught me to love bnt one, then far a- 
way— but I fear it is getting into my pen, and the shortest 



WIlXtAM SAMBOS'. 141 

follies are the best. However, having digressed so far in 
hopes of varying the tedious story of my griefs, I shall 
complete the picture of my whimsical situation. In the 
first place, the good papa with a laudable vigilance had 
placed himself in the garret, and a sharp look out he kept. 
Again there was another little round laughing young lady, 
married or single, I knew not which, dressed in a military 
dress, who seemed to take pleasure in provoking and in- 
sulting me with a pair of large black eyes. I was obliged 
in my own defence to shoot at her several times, to drive 
her from her post, which brought upon me the enmity of her 
duenna who, after putting the young wicked one from the 
window, came to it herself. I made grimaces at her; she 
made faces at me. I threatened to shoot her; she threat- 
ened to have me punished. When I took up my flute to 
play to the true object of my attention, this little soldier 
lady would take it to herself, and dance to my music. I 
had, besides, a trick for the father; for I could see where he 
hung up his hat, and knew by that when he was gone out. 
You will say this was carrying the thing too far. No! for 
our commerce was most innocent. The ladies were se- 
cure in the iron bars that restrained me, and still more in 
the purity of my thoughts, and they knew that the fullest 
effect their charms could have was but leading captivity 
captive. In short I had enough upon my hands, but I 
was not discouraged, until all such fond hopes were at 
Mnce cut off, as you shall see in the sequel. 



&EMOI&S O* 



LETTER XXI. 



The Neighbors — Infernal Dungeons. 

BEFORE I pursue the course of my adventures, I 
think it may not be uninteresting to my friend, to know, 
among what persons I was now living. I was one dav 
surprised in the corridor, by the voice of a man asking* me 
abruptly in the French language, if the negress was gone 
out? "Monsieur, la negresse est elle sortie? 9 * I looked 
round iii vain for the person or the place from whence this 
voice issued; but it was not until a following day, that I 
perceived fingers through a small hole in a step that led 
down from the gaoler's quarters to this wing which I in- 
habited. The light gave obliquely on the spot, and by re- 
flection, so that it was scarcely visible; within was entire 
darkness: and when I approached my month to this orifice 
to speak, the smell was poisonous. 

I asked the unhappy tenant of this cell, for what he had 
been immured there? and he answered, pour un marriage 
de la Republique; from which I at first concluded he had 
lost his senses: but I found afterwards that he had actually 
married a French woman under the revolutionary forms 
when in France: that she had separated from him: that 
upon his return he had consulted the emigrant priests, 
who affirmed the marriage to be null: that another advan- 
tageous match offering, he had proposed, but not con- 
cluded the second marriage; for which crime, as he told 
me, he had been long in this dungeon. His anxiety about 



WIIXIAM SAMPSON. 

the negress was, that if she had got out hy means of an ex- 
amination, lie would have concluded himself to have been 
passed over, and to have no more hope. He begged of me 
to purchase him some bread, as for myself, offering me at 
the same time the price of it through the hole, from wiliest 
I judged that hunger was a part of his punishment. I do 
not take upon myself to say what might have been the de- 
gree of this unfortunate being's crime, but his punishment 
was certainly severe. I saw him when at night he had 
got a candle to pick the vermin off his body. His beani 
was long, and his aspect miserable. His dungeon was 
deep and narrow; and in a corner was a little door. 
through which he must have crept in, and which served 
now to thrust in his food. It was from the depth of this 
dungeon, and the effort he had to make in clinging by his 
fingers in order to raise his mouth to the orifice in the 
stair, that the utterance of that abrupt sentence, "La ne- 
gresse est elle sortie/ 9 had such an extraordinary effect. 

But this was not the only miserable being of my spe- 
cies, of whose sufferings I was forced to partake. There 
was under the corridor another inferno, into which the de- 
scent was by a trap-door, over which I had often walked 
without perceiving it. This dungeon was damp and dark, 
and so foul, that when the trap-door was opened twice 
in the day to give provisions to the wretch that inhabited 
it, the whole surrounding space was infected with a pesti- 
lential smell for a length of time, and yet the entire opera- 
tion of opening and shutting, did not last more than half* 
a minute; nothing further taking place on the occasion 
than the handing down one little earthen dish and receiv- 
ing another, which was given up by the prisoner. But lest 
any thing should interrupt the fearful seclusion of this 



$44 MEMOIRS (KF 

mortal from the rest of his species, or that any means- 
.should he conveyed to him of quitting an existence so ter- 
rible, his meal was regularly and diligently searched each 
day before his trap-door was opened; and even his bread 
torn asunder for fear of some concealment. It would he 
too tedious to detail the histories of my other fellow-prison- 
ers. Those most immediately my neighbors, whose door 
gave into the corridor, were a Corsican smuggler, and a 
soldier imprisoned for stabbing with a knife. 

The predecessor of the negress had been an American, 
captain, called William Atkinson, from Philadelphia. His 
name was written with a pencil on the wall. He had been 
a length of time in secret, on account of a barrel of gun 
powder which he had been charged with purchasing undu- 
ly, as belonging to the stores. At length, when he had no 
more money, the gaoler enquired of the minister who sent 
him there? what was to be done with him? and the minis- 
ter, not recollecting his name, so totally had he been for- 
gotten, he was let out. 

The gentleman who rame on the same night with me, 
and with whom I had conversed only by stealth, through 
the flaw in his door, was a Mr. Rivet, of Nantes, formerly 
consul-general of the Portuguese in France. It was not 
until a day or two before our departure, that we were per= 
mitted to see each other. But I found afterwards great 
resources in the company of this new fellow-sufferer, who 
was, for what reason I know not, to be sent on board the 
same vessel which was to transport me against my will to 
France. 



WIIXIAM SAMPSON. 145. 



LETTER XXII. 



Kid-napped— Transported — Our Miens — State affairs— 
Protest 

AT length, after a series of abominations, which 
had now lasted six weeks, I was called upon suddenly one 
morning, by an ecrivan, a man of authority, to prepare 
for an immediate departure, and was scarcely allowed 
time to thrust my clothes into my trunks. In vain I de- 
manded where I was going. I was desired to pay ten 
moidores for my passage: I forget whether any thing more, 
or how much, for my servant: but I recollect that the gov- 
ernment paper money which remained in my hands, and 
which I had been obliged to take at par, was discounted at; 
fifteen per cent. Small considerations these, it is true, in 
any other circumstances, but serious seeing the position I 
was in. As certainly, had I yielded to much extortion in 
the beginning and my little stock been sooner exhausted, I 
should have been destitute beyond measure, and perhaps 
have perished in that double-doored vault where I was first 
plunged, and from which it required money to redeem me. 
I now remonstrated that I had very little remaining; 
and that if I went to a strange country as a prisoner, 
where I might have neither credit nor connexions, I must 
necessarily be exposed to great distress: and I begged at 
least to be informed where I was going, and to be allowed 
to make some arrangements. The officer replied in a per- 
emptory and insulting strain, that if I had no money ? 

T 



146 MEMOIRS OF 

none would be taken from me, but that my trunks and my 
person should be searched. This necessarily produced 
some warmth on my part. And transported and trem- 
bling with rage, and perhaps fear (for he often repeated 
that he was not afraid of me) he called upon his followers 
who, I believe, were twenty in number, to tie me: how- 
ever, this as on the former occasion was not put in execu- 
tion, and the whole scene ended in courtesy and com- 
plaisance. 

The Danish vice-consul attended below, with a captain 
of his nation, to see the passage money paid. But nei- 
ther of them would inform me where we were to go. Mr. 
Rivet and his servant were in like manner treated, and we 
were all four taken out by a gate which led to the place 
of embarkation. It was through this gate that I had often 
observed files of convicts to be taken, who had been pre- 
viously secured, each by an iron ring about his neck, and 
by this ring to an iron bar which held them altogether in 
a row. I was glad that we had no such shackles, as we 
should have thereby lost the opportunity of saluting our 
young ladies as we passed. They were looking on, as I 
hope, with eyes of tender compassion from their window, 
where they were placed together with their father and the 
elderly lady, their mother or governante, all of whom re- 
turned our salute politely. And I thought that the fair 
person, to whose compassion I laid claim, seemed touched 
with the hardships of my case. I had found means, be- 
fore I left the prison, to learn a little of her history. She 
was by birth a Spaniard. Her father a gentleman of the 
court* being a volante or running footman to the prince of 
Brazil. She herself had passed some heavy hours in the 
melancholy spot from which I addressed my prayers to 






WILLIAM SAMPSON. \4T 

her. Her lover being ordered to the East, she determin- 
ed to share his fortunes, and to that end put on the garb of 
a sailor, in which disguise she fell into the hands of the 
police, and refusing to discover herself, was shut up in 
the identical ceil which was afterwards allotted me, and 
had learned a lesson of pity in an excellent school. 

We were now put on board a royal gilded barge with 
the speed of twenty oars. We had the consolation of 
another salute from our fair spectators as we passed their 
windows, which overlooked the water: but from that day 
to this, having heard or seen nothing further from them, I 
endeavor to flatter myself with the hope that they are both 
happily married and settled in the world. Whilst I may 
have yet many years and many leagues to wander; and 
other countries, in all human probability, yet to visit. 

I waited with patience to see what was to be done with 
me, and was soon put on board a certain little Danish dog- 
ger called the Dye-Hqffning, which I understood to mean 
the Hope, a fair sounding name, but alas, a deceitful one, 
as you shall presently acknowledge. The pilot Was on 
board, the sails were full, the anchor weighed. In the 
barge with us had been sent, by whose care or whose 
bounty I could not learn, a provision of wine, fowls, 
onions and other articles, amply sufficient for a short 
voyage, but vciy inadequate to that long and cruel ara~ 
tion which we were destined to undergo. 

The officer, of whom I have before spoken, and who 
conducted us on board, before his quitting us, and imme- 
diately before our sailing, put into the hands of Mr. Rivet 
and me separate passports for the port of Hamburg, 
where we were told that we were now to go; and to the 
captain he delivered, as had been stipulated, several certi- 



148 MEMOIRS QE 

ficates; one from the English consul, one from the Danish 
consul, and for more authority endorsed by the ambassa- 
dor of Denmark. There was another from Mr. Lafargue, 
the agent for French prisoners hi Portugal; all evidently 
for the same purpose of securing the captain against sei- 
zure by armed vessels of all nations. The only one of 
these certificates, which mentioned me solely, was that of 
Mr. Lafargue, whilst that of Mr. Crispin mentioned only 
Mi*. Rivet, each covering with his protection the prisoner 
of the opposite nation. For this piece respecting me, 
which I insisted upon having from the captain on landing, 
("See Appendix JVo. XILJ The Danish consul and am- 
bassador certified for five persons put on board for reasons 
of state, and who had no charge on board of ship: perhaps 

the unfortunate Mr. A might have been intended for 

the fifth. 

I had forgot to mention, that the ecrivan had insisted on 
my signing a paper jointly with Mr. Rivet, that I should 
not return to Portugal, on pain of perpetual imprisonment. 
Mr. Rivet made no objection to sign this paper, which was 
drawn up so as to be jointly signed by him and me. He has, 
nevertheless, I understand, since exercised the office of 
Portuguese consul at Nantes, and is now as a commercial 
agent from France in Lisbon. But my case was very dif- 
ferent. I had no government to protect me: on the contra- 
ry, the minister, whose duty it was to do so, seemed to 
spare no means, however shameful, to destroy me. I had 
no law to appeal to. For in my person all laws had al- 
ready been outraged. My enemies were in power, and 
certainly had not enough of magnanimity to forgive the ex- 
posure of their crimes; and after the perfidies I had expe- 
rienced, I had little reason to confide in any body. I 



WILLIAM SAMPSON. 149 

might be put back into Portugal, as I was so often iiito 
Dublin, and this paper be used as a pretext better than 
any yet found, for the eternal privation of my liberty. 
Besides I had perceived an affectation of styling that gen- 
tleman and me os duos amigos, (the two friends) at a time 
when we had never seen each other; which displeased me. 
I refused therefore to subscribe to such conditions: but at 
the request of the officer, and for his justification, gave my 
reasons in writing at the foot of his paper. 1st. That I 
had been obliged, in consequence of an agreement with the 
government of my country, to sign an obligation to come 
to Portugal and remain there during the war, and that 
therefore I could not now subscribe to terms directly con- 
trary. 2dly. That this paper was made jointly with a 
gentleman of a different nation, whom I had not advan- 
tage of knowing, and whose case from the circumstances 
could have nothing in common with mine. 3dly. That 
not seeing what profit I could reap from it, or with what 
motive it was proposed to me, I should decline it for that 
reason alone, as I could not presume it was intended to 
befriend me. Now let us take leave of this inhospitable 
and degraded land; and that you may have courage to 
accompany me through a long and painful suffering on the 
seas, I shall leave you for awhile to your repose. 



150 MEMOIRS Of 



XETTER XXIII. 

Voyage — Discovery — French Privateer — English Frigate—- 
Bangers — Difficulties — Distresses — Landing in Spain. 

IT was now the beginning of May, 1799, when 
I put to sea in the Die-Hoffning, having still in my 
possession the passports of those ministers who professed 
to shed blood for the delivery of Europe and the restoration 
of religion and law. No case need be stronger than mine 
to shew how much their actions agreed with their profes- 
sions, and how much had their views succeeded there 
wouldjjiave remained of religion, liberty and law. Be- 
fore I crossed the bar I entered into conversation with the 
pilot, who seemed not to understand some questions I put 
tt> him touching the destination of the ship. This creating 
some suspicion, I was proceeding to press him for an ex- 
planation, when the captain interposed, and told me in a 
tone of confidence, to say nothing more; and that when 
we were once at sea and the pilot gone, he would tell me 
something that would be agreeable to me. But the mo- 
tion of the vessel on crossing the bar produced an effect 
which curiosity could not counteract. I went to my bed 
over-powered with sickness, and remained in a state of 
stupor for three days, insensible to all occurrences; at the 
end of which time Mr. Rivet informed me, that he had 
discovered from the avowal of the captain and a view of 
the ship's papers, that we were bound and regularly 
cleared out for Bordeaux. 



WHXIAM SAMPSON. 151 

Now although a voyage to France had for me nothing 
terrible, in comparison with what I had suffered; yet inas- 
much as it made a difficulty the more between me and my 
family, and that the consequence in many ways could not 
be calculated, I was much shocked at the discovery, Mr. 
Rivet did all he could to encourage and divert me from the 
unpleasant view my situation afforded, and in this as in 
every other stage of my persecution, I endeavored to 
strengthen myself with fortitude and patience and to make 
the best of my position. 

But whatever might be my disposition to bear cheerfully 
the ills and wrongs I had to sustain, every thing, even the 
elements, seemed to conspire to second the malice of my 
enemies and to make my situation intolerable. For six 
tedious weeks was I tossed about in this little vessel, in the 
performance of a voyage which might well have been per- 
formed in as many days. We sometimes approached the 
coast; and sometimes stood across the ocean, as they term 
ed it, looking for a wind. The course of the vessel, when 
traced upon a map, was a matter of real curiosity: and I 
had the satisfaction of finding , at the end of three weeks 
of sickness and pain, that we were further off by much 
from our destined port than when we started. We often 
requested the captain to put us somewhere on shore on the 
Portuguese or Spanish coast; and he as often positively 
refused. He seemed indeed to suffer as much as we, and 
on some occasions to have nearly lost his senses with vex- 
ation. He was in his own nature good; but he had been 
terror-struck and agitated in Lisbon, where he had been 
one day taken off the Change before the minister, and 
threatened with a gaol if he murmured against taking 
certain prisoners who should be sent on board of him. 



15Q MEMOIRS OJE 

No explanation was given to him who those prisoners 
were: and thus this poor honest seaman found himself 
suddenly involved in some conspiracy of state, and 
charged with papers and certificates of which he under- 
stood not a word, and with prisoners for his passengers 
of whom he must have formed strange notions. His imag- 
ination had been pre-disposed to gloomy presages by 
various contrarieties. He had had a very tedious passage 
from Malaga to Lisbon. At Lisbon he was detained after 
he was clear to sail, and all his port charges paid for 'pris- 
oners of state. During this time his cable, which was 
ashore, was cut and stolen away with the anchor. Added 
to all, the tediousness of his passage that was to deprive 
him of tfje summer fishery in the North, and consequently 
of his greatest benefice, I may say of his bread, you may 
suppose how abundantly this poor industrious man, whose 
dogger was the world to him, must have been tormented* 
The mystery and incomprehensibility of what he was 
himself engaged in, grew every day into more dark sus- 
picion; and his temper became at length very peevish. 
He did not speak French, and English very imperfectly. 
And as after the two or three first Weeks I had found all 
expostulation with Jiim in vain, I left him to Mr. Rivet. 

This gentleman, who possessed a good deal of informa- 
tion, had learned English, but rather from books than 
practice. And though he understood it upon principle^ he 
spoke it with difficulty: so that nothing could be more ex- 
traordinary to an English ear than the conferences he and 
the captain used to hold in the cabin by way of explana- 
tion, which I overheard as I sat upon the deck. Some- 
times the captain used to express great concern for us, and 
U) sympathise in our fate. At other times he insinuated 



WILUAM SAMP.SOff. 15^ 

i]iat we were the cause of his misfortunes and even of the 
foul wind. And he added that once before he had had a 
similar passage, and that the wind never became favorable 
until a man died} a doctrine that became a little irksome, 
particularly when the provisions grow scarce, and the 
sailors seemed to have adopted it. He often looked me 
pitifully in the face, and exclaimed that I might guillotine 
him if I chose; but that he was not like some other cap- 
tains who had taken away prisoners from Portugal, of 
whom nothing had been heard since. E[e often repeated 
this, I do not say with what view, but he seemed to take 
some credit to himself for the safety of our lives, as if we 
owed it to his forbearance or humanity/, 

I as often assured him that I had neither the power nor 
the disposition to guillotine him. That on the contrary I 
would do him any service in my power, provided he would 
put an entl to all our misery? by setting us on shore. I al- 
lowed that the compulsion used to him in Portugal, and the 
fear he was in of a despotic authority, was excuse enough 
to me for his taking us on board: but that his continuing to 
carry us such a length of time against our will backwards 
and forwards over the seas, whilst my health was such as 
he saw it, was little short of an act of piracy, which noth- 
ing could excuse. That, he himself knew how nearly the 
provisions were exhausted, and that even the water wouldi 
soon be finished. But he never would hear of this propo- 
sal with patience, and persisted that we should all go to- 
gether to Bordeaux, where every thing would end happily; 
so that sometimes I flattered myself, that he had some se- 
cret of that nature, and that he intended us some agreeable 
surprise: for it was hard to believe that so many ostensible 
persons should join in a diplomatic project which had no 



H'4 MEMOIRS OB 

other end in view, or could have no other issue or result^ 
than the mean and stupid persecution of an individual, such 
as me. 

Meantime the provisions were drawing to a close. We 
had no longer any thing to live upon but hard rye biscuits 
and bad water, with brandy and raw sugar, very little 
salt fish and salt meat; and that little but for a few days 
more. This diet, together with the vexation I experienc- 
ed, was nearly fatal to me, as the pain in my chest became 
intolerably severe. I renewed my entreaties to the cap- 
tain, to stand in for the land; where we might hope to 
make some part of the Spanish coast. The more I entreat- 
ed, the more perverse he grew. He had before refused to 
put us on shore in Portugal, lest we should all be imprison- 
ed for life. He now refused to approach the Spanish coast. 
For he said, that if the wind should be on shore, he would 
be blown upon the rocks: if it was off the shore, he could 
not make the land: if there was little or no wind, the cur- 
rent would run away with him. But he went sometimes 
so far as to offer me the command of the ship, provided I 
would secure him the payment of it. I told him I was not 
rich enough to buy his dogger, but that if he would stand in 
near the shore, and let me have one of his boats, I would 
pay him for it the price he should ask, and my servant and 
I should go on shore; by which means the provisions 
would last so much longer for the rest. This also he 
refused; and when every other reason was exhausted, he 
persisted that he could not go into Spain without perform- 
ing quarantine. It was in vain we assured him, that the 
Spaniards exacted no such thing on the coasts of the 
ocean. It had happened to him once in a Spanish port 



WIIXIAM SAMPSON. 155 

m the Mediterranean, and he conceived or pretended to 
think, that we were misleading him. 

Such evils were not of a nature to decrease with time, and 
our captain became every day more disturbed. Before, he 
had been sober and abstemious; but latterly resorted fre- 
quently for consolation to the brandy bottle. He often 
started in his bed, and talked through his sleep; and at the 
same time became most fervently devout. Twice a day 
he took his little ship's company down into the forecastle 
or steerage, to sing hymns for a fair wind. But it was 
all to no purpose. Once only we had a propitious mo- 
ment. The wind blew fair; the yards were squared, and 
the steering sails were set. The steersman, who had hith- 
erto been of an unalterable gravity, went down for his 
mandoline, and the captain danced to his music. I shall 
give no other praise to these performers than to say, that 
none ever gave me greater pleasure. Every body was 
happy, bustling and gay. The breeze seemed sent from 
heaven for our relief, and there appeared a kind of exult 
ing consciousness, that the hymns had not been sung in 
vain. There was no longer any need that a man should 
die to appease an angry Providence. I too put in my 
claim to merit; for though I had not joined in the hynms, 
I had generally steered the vessel, that all the hands 
might. The remaining fowl was now ordered to be killed, 
and the rigor of our allowance was relaxed, and a smile 
of hope and cheerfulness sat upon every countenance. 
But how great is the uncertainty of sublunary events. In 
less than an hour all grew black again. The wind blew 
^again as formerly. By little and little the sails were un- 
willingly trimmed. The steering sails were again lower- 
ed in sullen silence. The mandoline disappeared, and I 



15\3 memoies or 

"need not say, the dancing ceased also. There was ii6 
more smile, no more joke nor play. In short, for the 
length of that day, no man ventured to look another into 
the face, much less to speak to him. 

It was while things were growing towards the worsts 
that we were hoarded hy a French privateer brig, called 
the Venus, from Nantes. The captain, oh board of whom 
we were carried, finding us in ride, and having some 
knowledge of Mr. Rivet, who was from the same town, 
apologized very civilly for the trouble and delay he had 
given us, and made us a present of some articles of pro- 
vision. And after he had left us, and was almost out of 
sight, he returned to offer us a passage on shore, as in a 
few days his cruise would be out, and he would then stand 
in for a Spanish port. 

This was a tempting offer; but I, for obvious reasons, 
refused it; and rightly, for a few days after we were 
boarded by the Flora frigate who had captured this iden- 
tical privateer. And had I been found on board of her, it 
might have supplied a pretext, which neither the torture of 
my servant nor the Seizure of my .papers had yet afforded. 
And my enemies would not then have been forced to resort 
to that scandalous falsehood, that I had corrupted the 
people in a fishing town in Wales. 

At length, not having wherewithal to support life anoth- 
er day, we with difficulty entered the port of St. Sebastian; 



WIIXIAM SlMFSON. t5; 



LETTER XXIV. 



Again threatened with Arrestation — Remonstrance — Munici- 
pality of Bayonne arrete motive — Arrival in France. 

HERE I applied to Bon iMiis Blondel de Drouhot> 
the commandant, or captain-general, for a passport to 
proceed by land to my destination; where I certainly did 
hope to learn at least the cause of such extraordinary 
treatment, And I was now very willing that the dogger 
should make the rest of her passage without me. Don Louis 
first threatened to arrest me as a subject of the king of 
Great-Britain, then at war with his king. Nor could I 
avail myself in this instance of the passports of the duke 
of Portland and the marquis Cornwallis. If they had not 
served me in Portugal, still less could they do so here. 
Yet I did produce them; for I was determined at all events 
to deal with candor, and to oppose nothing to such com- 
plicated vexation but simplicity and truth. I offered be- 
sides the testimony of Mr. Rivet, that of the captain, and 
our servants, that we were sent away by force. I produced 
also the passport of the minister of Portugal, then in strict 
alliance with Spain; and also the certificates of the English 
consul, the Danish ambassador and consul, the French 
minister in Portugal, and other proofs, all shewing beyond 
doubt, that I was sent for reasons of state from Lisbon to 
Bordeaux. And since this was apparently done by the 
concurrence of so many ministers, it was to be presumed 
it was for some good or great purpose, though I protested 



MEMOIRS Ol 

I knew not what those reasons could be: but merely hopej 

that the principles of civilization were not yet so lost in 

Europe, that an individual could be seized upon as if by 

pirates, and transported by them from place to place, by 

sea and by land, from dungeon to dungeon, without some 

account finally to be rendered of such proceedings. At 

Bordeaux alone I stated I could expect to have that satis- 

faction, and there I looked for it confidently; as I was 

sure the diplomatic agents of so many kings would not 

deliberately join to prostrate those laws, and openly vic- 

ithout motive those received notions of natural right 

; ustice, by which their right to govern, and their 

to their thrones, were alone secured. I moreover 

ed what I had already suffered on board of this ship; 

what the state of my health was: and I prevailed finally 

to obtain a passport to follow my destination as far as the 

frontiers of France, where I might explain myself, as I 

best could, with the authorities of that country. 

With this passport I arrived at Bayonne, where I ap- 
.peared before the municipality, and was desired to return, 
the quicker the better, to the place I came from; for that 
otherwise I should be put in prison. To this I replied 
with warmth, that I had heard it proclaimed that France 
was to be the terre hospitalicre, where the persecuted were 
to find a refuge. But if I, who had no other crime than 
the love of my country, of human liberty and justice, and 
who had not come into this land from any motive of curi- 
osity or caprice, but by misfortune and necessity, which 
gives a title to humanity in every country: if I was now to 
be driven back into other hands, where I might expect at 
least a renewal of the wrongs I had already suffered, it 
•night be said that hospitality and justice were banished 



WIXI.IAM SAMPSON. 

from the earth. That I wanted nothing more than to go 
to Bordeaux, where alone I could hope for some clue to my 
situation, or the acquaintance of some person of my own 
country, by whose interest I might have the means q$ 
present existence; or when it should appear prudent, of 
removing elsewhere. And above all, some news of my 
family, touching whom I have been so long and so cruelly 
in pain. 

The loyalty with which I uttered this disposed the as- 
sembly in my favor. There were some also of the mem- 
bers who had known something of me by reading the 
English papers; and if more were wanting, the prisoners 
of war, who had been confined at the same time with me in 
the castle of St. George, arrived at this instant; and Mr. 
Rivet exerted himself with zeal. 

Mr. Bastcreche, the commissary of the executive powcr> 
who had at first spoken with so much sternness, now ex- 
pressed his desire of serving me as far as his duty would 
permit; and in the first instance I was allowed to remain 
in Bayonne until he should write to the minister of the 
police for his decision. 

This was in the month of June, 1799, a critical moment 
in France. The spirit of party was mounted to an extrav- 
agant height, and a stranger had little chance for x*epose 
in such a conflict. Bayonne was a frontier town, and 
guarded with jealousy. The remainder of the sum of om 
hundred pounds, which I had received from Mr. Nash be- 
fore my arrest, was nearly expended; and I in vain cast 
my eyes round for a friend to apply to: for a Strang* 
such a moment could expect nothing but distrust. 

No answer was to be expected from the minister of the 
police, and it happened at this moment that a total re vol u 



\60 MEMOIRS OF 

tion took place in that department. I applied once more 
to Mr. Bastereche, and be advised me to present a peti- 
tion to the municipality, stating all the circumstances ofc 
my case, and that they would deliberate upon it. I there- 
fore drew up a very abridged statement of what I have 
now stated to you; and observed at the same time, that 
if I was capable of imposing on those whose protection 1 
claimed, I might avail myself of a multitude of publica^ 
tions in the governmental papers against me; and of pub- 
lic records and acts of parliament. But as all those were 
false and atrocious, I scorned to profit by them at the ex- 
pense of truth, and would make no title but that of an op- 
pressed individual; nor demand any other favor than the 
permission to remain in peace, the greatest good for me 
after my liberty. 

Upon this petition the municipality deliberated, and con- 
cluded by drawing up a decree, motived upon the utility 
of encouraging such strangers as were victims of the des- 
potism of their enemies, and recommending me as a per- 
son well known in the annals of my country. ( See Appen- 
dix No. XIII. J 

Had my views been ambitious, nothing could be more 
Mattering; but my determination was, not to meddle with 
the concerns of government, nor to be surprised into any 
step for which I was not prepared. No motive has eye* 
since appeared strong enough to tempt me from this re- 
serve; and I am now as little connected with France* 
save in gratitude for the asylum it has afforded me, as on 
the day I first set my foot upon its soil. 

I at first objected to this arrete motive, as giving me a 
character which it was not my desire to avail myself of. 
But it was replied to me, that the municipality, in its de- 



WUXIAM SAMPSON* 



161 



sire to serve me, had gone a great length, and that the 
motives stated were the only ones upon which the mem- 
bers could justify themselves to their government. Thai 
I was not forced to accept of it; but that if I did not 
think proper so to do, I must wait the answer of the 
minister, of which they could not take upon themselves to 
say any thing: whereas this arrete was intended to short- 
en the delays, by sending me directly before the minister, 
who alone was competent to decide upon my case. 

This instrument was to serve me, as you see, for a 
passport; and I was bound by it to take the road ot 
Bordeaux, Angouleme, Poitiers, Tours and Orleans, and 
to present myself before the municipality in each of those 
towns as I passed. Fearing to be reduced to want, I had no 
other part to take, and I made use of it accordingly to go 
as far as Bordeaux, where I without much difficulty obtain- 
ed leave to remain, and thereupon struck out my signature. 



BETTER XXV. 



Mordeaux— Bureau Central— Reflections on Party -Spirit-** 
New Embarrassments—Mr. Forster— Special Letter of 
Exchange—My Protest— Its Effect. 

AS I held firmly to my design of steering clear 
of every interference or declaration that could affect my 
own independence, I could the less complain of the rigor- 
ous scrutiny to which I was exposed. I was summoned 
several times before the Bureau central, and interrogated 



162 MEMOIRS OF 

strictly; as was my servant and Mr. Rivet, and also the 
captain upon his arrival from St. Sebastian. You will find 
In the appendix a copy of those interrogatories which I 
afterwards made interest to obtain. (See Appendix JVo. 
XIV. J You will perceive by them in how difficult a situ- 
ation I was placed, and judge whether my persecutors, 
had they been in my place, would have acted so truly or 
so honorably. 

It may at some future day be thought worthy of enquiry 
why I was thus piratically sent to Bordeaux: but had 
those events which some so confidently expected at that 
crisis, taken place, my destruction might have easily been 
effected; for in such angry moments accusation may be 
heard, but not defence. Be it as it may, my way 'was 
here again strewed with thorns, and bigotry and igno- 
rance envenomed against me. There is every where un- 
fortunately, a class to be met with of human beings 
leaning naturally to the side of power, however depraved 
or atrocious; and ever ready to enlist under the banners 
of oppression, and to join in cry of malice. With such 
I could naturally hold no friendship, nor look for any 
justice, much less for benevolence. With them the name 
of honor and the love of their fellow-creatures is a jest: 
and never having felt the impulse of any generous feeling, 
they readily believe that there is no such thing. But I 
have had the mollification, here as in other places during 
the course of my persecution, of meeting with persons nat- 
urally good, and such as I could have wished to esteem, 
worked up by deceit and calumny to a pitch of uncharita- 
bleness not very distinguishable from the most odious vice. 
And this is the most lamentable of all the effects of party- 
spirit. Thus I, who certainly could boast of as fair titles 



WILLIAM SAMPSON. 163 

as ever man could, to the benevolence of my species, in 
every part of the world, found myself hunted by a kind of 
dumb persecution, for no other reason on earth than be- 
cause I had already been the victim of my own generosity, 
and the perfidy of my enemies. 

Instead of finding any elucidation of my new position, 
I was here more in the dark than ever: nor did I know 
to whom to apply for aid. For chasing to be of no party. 
I had claims on none. The merchants of my own coun- 
try, who carried on their commerce by connivance, were 
afraid to serve me for fear of mischief to themselves. I 
early applied to one of them most noted for liberality, and 
he refused to have any thing to do with my signature, but 
offered to lend me a small sum of money, which I refused 
upon such terms. It is fair to say that I had thought it 
just to apprize him of that diabolical act of parliament, 
which made it felony to correspond with me. This I con- 
ceived it but candid to do: and it had alarmed him proba- 
bly for his friends who resided in Ireland, and were under 
the scourge of the laws made by that' ever memorable par- 
liament. I confessed to him also that my servant had 
been tortured with impunity; and it is not to be wondered 
at that he should fear, after such information, to do an act 
which otherwise ampng civilized beings was but a thing of 
course. 

I was one morning sitting up in my bed, ruminating on 
this disagreeable subject, when it came into my recollec- 
tion that there was here a house of commerce, of which 
the principal was a Mr. Forster, whose son I had known 
in Oporto; and whom I knew to be the correspondent of 
several of my friends in the North of Ireland, as well as 
of Mr. Skeys who, with the privity of the Irish govern- 



%Sk MEMOIRS OB 

ment, had given me letters of recommendation and eredit 
in Portugal. I rose and went to his house, and introduced 
myself under these titles. I briefly and frankly exposed 
my situation to him. I found him at first not divested of 
the common prejudices; hut I cut short his animadver- 
sions by shewing him all my passports and some letters 
af his correspondents. I then asked him if he would give 
me the sum of money I should have need of upon my bill? 
to which he consented. 

The usual manner of drawing upon my country during 
the war, was under <& fictitious date. With this form I 
did not chuse to comply: but for the safety of all con- 
cerned, I drew upon the same Mr. Skeys for the sum of 
fifty pounds, dating my draft Bordeaux: and under my 
signature I wrote, in nature of protest, that I had been 
sent there from Lisbon against my written and verbal pro- 
testation to the contrary: and that I was now in nature of 
a prisoner on parole, under the surveillance of the police. 
Aiul indeed, so true was this fact, that for eighteen months 
that I inhabited Bordeaux and its neighborhood, I was 
constantly held by my passport to present myself every 
ten days before the municipality. I am at the same time 
far from complaining of that circumstance. I see nothing 
but justice in it, as my claim went no further than to the 
hospitality due, even in time of war, to a persecuted 
stranger. 

Although the service I received from Mr. Forster, 
namely, the discounting my bill, does not seem very im- 
portant: yet considering the refinement of my persecu- 
tion, and the unabating rancor, of winch you will see 
more towards the conclusion of this narrative, I have rea- 
son to be very grateful for it. But such was the effect 



W1ULIAM SAMPSON 16$ 

of terror, such the abuse of power towards me, that had 
not this very respectable gentleman done me this good of- 
fice, I have reason to think I should not at that juncture 
have found so much liberality elsewhere. Another act of 
kindness no less important was added to the obligation, 
that of forwarding to my family some account of my exist- 
ence, and apprising the government in my name, which he 
undertook to do, of what had past. 

I wrote besides to Mr. Skeys, upon whom I had drawn, 
a letter of advice, in which I requested him to reimburse 
himself by drawing upon my brother-in-law in Belfast; 
and. I left the protest to work its own effect. I also wrote 
to Mr. Dobbs, to apprise him of the atrocities committed 
against me; and entreated him, not merely as my kins- 
man, but as one who had borne an active part in the mel- 
ancholy negotiation abovementioned, to go to the castle 
and relate what had passed; and to say, that if any step 
was taken to molest me further, or to injure my securities, 
that I should then be obliged of necessity to vindicate my- 
self by showers of proofs which might not be agreeable. 
Mr. Dobbs went accordingly to Mr. Cooke, who told him 
that if the representation I made was true, my bail had 
nothing to fear, and his advice to me was, to remain quiet- 
ly where I was, without taking any further steps , 

It was in the latter end of 3 uly, that Mr. Forster sailed 
for Guernsey, from whence he was to proceed to England. 
And I finding the party spirit encreasing in the town of 
Bordeaux, and considering it my first duty to avoid enter- 
ing in any manner into the affairs of a country where I was 
enjoying, by a special exception in my favor, protection 
and hospitality: and being also desirous of an economical 
retreat, I retired to .the banks of the Bordogne* in the 



1^)6 MEMOIRS 01? 

neighbourhood of St. Andre Cusac, where I spent the re«< 
mainder of the summer. And so well had I calculated 
what was about to happen, that the very day after my quit- 
ting Bordeaux, a movement took place which cost some 
lives, but which had no other result. It was during my 
residence in this retired spot, that I had the misfor- 
tune to loose my faithful servant, John Russell, who 
died of a fever, and was buried in the church-yard of 
St. Gervais, bearing upon his body to the grave, the marks 
of the torture he had undergone. 

The deatli of this faithful friend, for so I must now call 
him, was indeed a poignant affliction. With a heart big 
with anguish, and eyes wet with unfeigned tears, I exam- 
ined his dead body and contemplated the scars which the 
lash of his atrocious executioners had inflicted. His gal- 
lant and generous spirit was fled to the mansions of eter- 
nal rest! He was gone to appear before that Judge, in 
whose sight, servant and master, lord and peasant, stand 
in equal degree. If it be the will of that Righteous and 
Eternal Judge to confront the guilty with the innocent, 
what must be the wretchedness, what the atonement of 
those vicious men? In the whole course of his services, I 
had never once opened my mouth to him upon any subject 
of political concern; and the unvaried and voluntary re- 
spect he bore towards me, was a law which he had never 
once transgressed. He was as gentle as he was brave; 
and the most respectable inhabitants of the commune 
where he died, did not refuse to his memory the tribute of 
a tear. It was not for many days after, that mine ceased 
to flow: and when again on examining his effects, I per- 
ceived in one of his frocks the hole through which the 
cartridge of the Orangeman in Abbey-street had pierced) 



WIIXIAM SAMPSON. 167 

that additional token of his magnanimity revived those 
emotions of grief and sorrow, which my own personal 
sufferings had never been able to extort. 



XJSTTER XXV*. 

Mrs. Sampson-— Correspondence — Mr. Merry. 

AT length, in the month of December, for the 
first time, after a year's incertitude and silence, I receiv- 
ed a letter from my wife, which brought me some conso- 
lation. She and her children were in good health. My 
bill had been paid, and this was an essential circumstance; 
as Mr. Forster had left no instructions to those who were 
charged in his absence with the business of his house, to 
advance me any further supply; and want again began to 
stare me in the face. 

Mr. Dubourdieu, my brother-in-law, had, upon hearing 
of my arrest in Portugal, written to the late marquis of 
Downshire, entreating Mm to apply to the duke of Port- 
land for redress, which he did and received a written, an- 
swer, which he transmitted to my brother-in-law, that the 
duke of Portland, on account of the improper conduct and 
language of Mr. Sampson in Wales, could not interfere 
in his behalf! My sister also wrote to Mr. Wickam, 
who promised to lay her letter before the duke of Portland, 
but could hold out no hopes of success after the represent- 
ations already made on the subject. And my wife like- 
wise wrote to this latter gentleman, but received no an* 



t(58 MEMOIRS OB 

swer, anil enclosed a letter with a request to Imve it for- 
warded to me, which it never was. 

My sister also applied to lord Castlereagh, through one 
of the ladies of his family, but with no better effect: for 
he answered, that I was accused of attempting to corrupt 
the minds of some people in a fishing town in Wales/ 
where I was wrecked. If there be facts in nature which 
are beyond all comment, or which stand in need of none* 
these are they. When it is considered that I was at this 
time to pass through the secret dungeons of the inquisition, 
from which the issue is not easy; when it is considered 
that I had, through reliance on the good faith of the gov^ 
eminent, of* the king, lords and commons of Ireland, de- 
livered myself up into their hands; that I had, for my en- 
tire protection and guarantee, the passports of those very 
ministers, who were in every sense bound to be my pro- 
tectors, if any tie of honor, or any notion of those princi- 
ples upon which society can alone be supported, and* 
which are sacred even among barbarians, remained; then 
let me ask upon what ground the English government 
now stands? or what it is that secures the liberty, the prop- 
erty, or the person of any individual? Why shall not 
what has been practised against me be practised against 
others? Before I condescended to make any agreement I 
was locked up in solitude for many months, in vain de- 
manding a trial. My servant had been tortured in vain 
to extort an accusation against me. And when I, relying 
upon lord Cornwallis, consented to terms from motives too 
pure to be discussed with such men* those terms had been 
most basely and most falsely violated. At first I was sus- 
pected of treasonable practices, because I would have re 
Sfsted murder and torture- for I defy any man to name any 



WIIXIAM SAMPSON. 169 

other treason I have committed. And again, I was ac- 
cused of corrupting the people of a country where my 
misfortunes and a cruel persecution had driven me, and 
where I never had any communication that could give the 
slightest sanction to such a charge. The day may come, 
when the measure of these crimes may he full and run 
over. My character has triumphed over every attack. 
Alas, what would my enemies appear, were they put to 
their defence! Perhaps that moment when oppressed and 
insulted humanity may recalcitrate, is not far off: until 
then the enemies of England may triumph in her abject 
state. It is every thing that her enemies can wish; and 
they need by no means despair to see the same manacles, 
the same bloody whips and instruments of torture, the 
use of which has been indemnified in Ireland, used also 
and indemnified in England. Oh fallen Englishmen! 
when you could bear to hear of indemnified torture in Ire- 
land, you were from that moment prepared for the yoke 
yourselves. The bulwarks of your liberty, generosity and 
honesty, were gone. It was but a small step to make; and 
torture, it will be argued, is not an unfit regimen for 
those who can consent to the torture of their fellow-men. 
But let me return from this unprofitable digression, and 
hasten to couclude a story too pregnant with disagreeable 
conclusions. 

My wife, after a great length of time, wrote to the duke 
of Portland a letter, which it is right I should transcribe. 
It will be for him whose heart is not lost to virtue, and 
whose best feelings are not drowned in the habitual profli- 
gacy of the times, to appreciate her sorrows, and my 
wrongs. 



170 MEMOIRS OP 

To his Grace the Duke of Portland, $c. $c. $e. 

My Lord Duke, 

The situation of my husband and children urge 
me, though obscure and unknown, to encroach a moment 
on your Grace's patience; and misfortune and misery are 
the only apologies I have to offer for this intrusion. In 
October 1798, lord Cornwallis permitted Mr. Sampson to 
leave the Irish prison, where he was detained six months 
without an accusation or trial, and sailed for Lisbon, his 
health being greatly impaired. This was intended for an 
indulgence; and no other of the prisoners having been 
treated in the same manner, we were considered to be ve- 
ry much favored. But he was soon after arrested at 0- 
porto; the cause of which we have never yet been able to 
discover. And after being long and rigorously imprison- 
ed, he was sent by force from Lisbon, and landed at Bor- 
deaux, where he was detain«l as being a British subject, 
travelling with your grace 9 s passport. But supposing he were 
permitted by the French to return, the nature of his sure- 
ties, on leaving Dublin, prevent his returning to Ireland 
without permission from the English government. When 
he was imprisoned, and afterwards compelled to leave 
"Portugal, and sent forceably to Bordeaux, Mr. Walpole 
was ambassador at Lisbon; and I should hope that, by 
referring to him, your grace might hear the truth; al- 
though he may not have known all that my husband 
suffered. 

Could I hope, that moved by compassion towards me 
and my little helpless children, you would restore him to 
his liberty and family; or if this be at present too great a 
favor to expect, may I hope that your grace would permit 



WILLIAM SAMPSON, 171 

the enclosed letter to be sent tb Mr. Sampson, through the 
medium of your office, to the agent for British prisoners 
in France? and to allow me to receive his answers? Even 
this would confer an everlasting obligation on your grace's 
Most obedient 

Humble servant, 

Grace Sampson. 
Belfast, March 10, 1800. 

To this letter the following answer was returned: 

Madam, 

I am directed by the duke of Portland to 
acknowledge the receipt of your letter of the 10th instant, 
enclosing one for Mr. Sampson, which his grace has for- 
warded to the commissioners of the transport service 
here, in order that it may be forwarded to France. I am 
also to acquaint you, that his grace has no objection to 
your corresponding with Mr. Sampson: but that it will be 
necessary for you to send all your letters unsealed to him 
for this office. 

/ am, Madam, 

Your most obedient humble servant, 

J. King. 

Now here was a very gracious concession made to the 
tears and prayers of my unfortunate wife. That I should 
remain where I was sent by force, and where I must stay 
in fact: as without volunteering in search of new dun- 
geons, of want, and eternal separation* I could not stir. 
For time has proved, that had I gone to almost any coun- 
try in Europe;, except Turkey, or Portugal where I came 
from, I should have very soon found myself in a country 



tT2 MEMOIRS Of 

at war with the king of England, whose arms were jet 
red with the blood shed for those thrones wMch they were 
now to bombard, and for the deliverance of that Europe 
with which his ministers are now at war. 

I was also allowed to correspond with my wife by un" 
sealed letters, sent to the secretary of state's office, to be 
read. Certainly this was more agreeable than to have my 
letters basely intercepted, in order that to my own suf- 
ferings, the tortured feelings of an innocent wife and 
mother might be added. But let me ask in what part of 
my agreement with lord Cornwallis will it be found, that 
I was to be thus cut off from a country to which I have 
been so true, that I have no other enemies than its ene- 
mies? Upon what ground w r as it that a man who had 
committed no crime, should be treated like an outcast, and 
that the pains of felony should light upon a virtuous wife 
for holding correspondence with him? Let me not pursue 
this further; justice may one day return; until then com- 
plaint is idle. Suffice it for the present to say, that Mrs, 
Sampson was so charmed with this mitigation of her tor- 
ment and the atrocities practised against me, that she re- 
turned an answer overflowing with gratitude, and I my- 
self was well pleased that there was somewhere to be 
found a term to the extent of persecution. But the worst 
was yet to follow. 

It was natural now, that since I could not go to my fam- 
ily, for that had been positively forbidden, they should 
at least be permitted to come to me. That religion, for 
which the earth has been so amply drenched in human 
gore, has it for a precept, "Whom God has put together, 
let no man put asunder." There wanted but this sacrilege 
to fill the measure of my wrongs. And on the srth of 



WILLIAM SAMPSON. 175 

July, Mrs. Sampson wrote to the duke of Portland in these 
words: 

My Lord, 

Having been indulged by your grace 
in a manner that has excited a very lively sense of grati- 
tude, with the permission of corresponding with Mr. 
Sampson, I am emboldened to make a second application, 
which I hope your grace will pardon, in consideration 
that I have been separated two years and an half from my 
husband, except a few weeks that I was permitted to be 
with him in prison. What I have now to trouble your 
grace for, is leave to pass witli my children, and a female 
servant, to Bordeaux. And if this indulgence be attain- 
able, I hope your grace will furnish me with passports, 
which will enable me to sail in a neutral vessel: or if that 
should not occur, and I could make it convenient to go to 
Dover, should I be permitted a passage in a cartel ship to 
Calais. I shall not trespass longer on your grace's time, 
than to entreat, that if there be any thing improper in this 
application, you will have the goodness to excuse it on ac 
count of my miserable situation, and allow me to remain 
Your grace' 's 
Much obliged, 

And very humble servant, 

Grace Sampson. 

To the above, the following answer was received: 

Madam, 

I am directeu/by the duke of Portland, 
to acknowledge the receipt of^rour letter of the 27th, re- 



174 MEMOIRS OF 

questing permission to pass with your family over to Bor- 
deaux. 

I am to express to you his grace's regret, that the regu- 
lations it has heen found necessary to adopt in the present 
moment, will not admit of his grace's compliance with 
your wishes in this case. 
I am, Madam, 
Four most obedient 
Humble servant, 

C. W. Fxint, 

I leave it now to you, my friend, to imagine, if you con, 
any thing more refined in persecution than this: and I 
shall not insult you by making any further comment 
upon it. 

In the summer of 1806, the rumors of peace gained 
ground, and I, with the advice of my friends, formed the 
project of coming to Paris, where I might he on the spot 
if any occasion should offer of claiming redress. This 
hope proved vain, and I passed the winter in unprofitable 
expectation, and part of it in sickness. 

During the summer of the last year, whilst great arma- 
ments were fitting out, and lord Nelson was bombarding 
the port of Boulogne, I was on a visit at the country-seat of 
a friend, and from thence went to the waters of Plombiere; 
from whence I had the intention of proceeding to Switzer- 
land. Captain Cotes had had the goodness to charge 
himself with the care of forwarding my wife's letters to me 
wherever I should desire to have them addressed. But a 
change took place in England, which deprived me of that 
advantage; and I returned in the month of August to Par- 
is. The duke of Portland had in the meantime been suc- 
ceeded by lord Pelham, ancLMr. Cotes by Mr. Merry. 



WI1XIAM SAMPSON. 175 

As soon as I heard of Mi\ Merry's arrival; I wrote to 
request that he would do me the same kindness that Mr, 
Cotes had promised. But between the date of my letter, 
and that of his answer; there was the distance of a month: 
and it was not until after my return to Paris, that I receiv- 
ed his answer. As it is hut short, I shall transcribe it. 

a Monsieur 
Monsieur William Sampson, a Plombiere. 

Faris, August 15, 1800. 
Sir, 

I have to acknowledge the receipt of your 
letter of the 16th ult. in answer to which I beg leave to ob- 
serve, that captain Cotes did not mention any thing to me 
relative to your correspondence: and I am sorry to add; 
that it is not in my power to comply with your wishes on 
that subject, without I receive an order for that purpose 
from the British government. 
I am. Sir, 

Four most obedient 
Humble servant, 

Ant. Merry, 

I next waited upon Mr. Merry, who excused himself 
from forwarding my letters, but offered to take charge of 
any application I should wish to address to lord Pelham, 
to whom I wrote a long letter, stating all that had been 
perpetrated against me; and protesting anew against the 
injustice of being sent into an enemy's country, where I 
assured him with truth, I had not at this day nor never 
had any other relation than the loyalty which every honest 
man owes to any government whatsoever whilst under its 
protection, and whilst it tenders him an asylum rather 



\?6 MEMOIRS OF 

than a prison: and I enclosed a letter to my Wife filled 
with little details which I intended to follow up by a jour- 
nal of my projected tour through Switzerland. But my 
letter was suppressed, and no answer returned to me, 
which determined me to make no other appeal through that 
channel. 

In the above mentioned letter to my wife, I had, in 
hopes of amusing her, mentioned amongst other little de- 
tails, my having made the acquaintance of Madame Bona- 
parte,j and her daughter Mademoiselle Hortence.^ You 
will, I am sure, upon reading these names, expect that I 
should say something of their persons. You will be cu- 
rious to know what are the charms that can captivate that 
spirit which no other power can restrain; and it is right 
you should as far as in my power be satisfied. 

As to Josephine, the freedom which reigns at such 
watering places gave me daily opportunity of observing 
her: and I was often of those rural excursions in which 
she joined, and invited to the entertainments given in her 
honor. Were I then to pronounce, I should ascribe her 
ascendancy to the gentleness and flexibility of her disposi- 
tion; to a graceful person, an elegant deportment, with an 
habitual or constitutional desire of pleasing, polished by 
the usage of the best society. These are indeed truly fem- 
inine attributes, more winning, undoubtedly, than mascu- 
line endowments of the understanding, which sometimes 
excite to contention and encroach upon the natural graces 
of the sex. Mademoiselle Hortence is also of an affable 
character, adding the agreeable manners of her mother to 
the gaiety natural to her years; insomuch that I have had 



f Now Empress Josephine. J Now Queen of Holland. 



WILLIAM SAMPSON. 177 

the honor of playing Iwt-cockles and draw-gloves with her. 
I had obtained her permission to write to her on behalf of 
a friend, whose occasions not requiring it, I no further 
availed myself of it. This I almost regret, as I should 
have been undoubtedly proud of such a correspondent.! 
She possesses various accomplishments, rides well, dances 
well, and designs well. She was then employed in finish- 
ing a whole length portrait of the first consul. She also 
spoke English: and as I lodged just opposite her balcony, 
we often talked across the street in my vernacular tongue. 

Madame Bonaparte, the mother, is a fine person un- 
doubtedly for her years; a sensible Italian physiognomy, 
fresh, alert and vigorous. On the day of a fete champe- 
tre in the enchanting valley called the Val-da-gol, the 
rendesvous of the ladies was on a steep and ruggid moun - 
tain. She took my arm to descend the abrupt declivity, 
which she achieved with the lightness of a nymph; prov- 
ing herself the true mother of her intrepid son. I asked 
her if it would not be delightful to pass away life in peace 
amongst these craggy mountains and flowery fields? and 
she answered, as if from her heart, with an accent that 
marked a soul: On n'y serait que trop hereucc. This, my 
dear friend, is all I can call to mind. If these little gos- 
sippings be of no importance in themselves, the persons 
of whom they are related and their growing and extraor- 
dinary fortunes may give them some. If they afford you 
the slightest amusement I am repaid. 

I might have had the honor of being, on my return to 
Paris, presented at the circles of these ladies, and at the 
court; but after the arrival of the English ambassador, a 

fThis is not said because this lady is now a queen; but be* 
cause she was then so amiable. 

y 



178 MEMOIRS OF 

rule was made, that no stranger should be presented, but 
by the ministers of their respective countries; and I, a poor 
\ rish exile, had no country nor no minister. That howev- 
er does not hinder me to live in peace with myself and all 
the world. 



LETTER XXVII. 



Peace — Cornwallis — Colonel Littlehales — My Memorial — > 
Amiens — General Musnier — Unrelenting Persecution — 
Mrs.- Sampson— -Her arrival in France with her Chil- 
dren. 



AT length, in an unexpected moment, the sound of 
c annon proclaimed the joyful news of peace. Festive illu- 
minations gave it new eclat, and drooping humanity, half 
doubting, half believing, .ventured to raise up her head. 
Next came the news of the almost frantic transports into 
which this event had thrown the government, no less than 
the people of England; and how all contending parties 
seemed now to be united. This might be supposed an aus- 
picious moment for me; one of whose principal crimes was, 
with the infinite majority of the people of Great Britain 
and Ireland, to have opposed a war, the bare termina- 
tion of which, although no one end for which it was ever 
pretended to exist had been attained, produced so much 
exstacy. If such a peace had produced so much joy, as to 
resemble the effects of a reprieve upon the point of an exe- 



WILtlAM SAMPSON. 179 

cution,f one would suppose, that persecution would at least 
cease against those who had never encouraged that war; 
one might have hoped, that past experience had dictated a 
milder and a wiser system. 

But more: The minister of this good work, was lord 
Cornwallis; the same nohleman whose honor was pledged 
to me so solemnly, that I was authorised hy the chancellor, 
lord Clare, to say, "that the government that could prove 
false to such an agreement, could neither stand, nor de- 
serve to stand," Relying upon lord Cornwallis's honor, 
however, more than on the assertions of lord Clare, I had 
given him a confidence hlindly implicit, and to that honor 
so flagrantly violated, I had now an opportunity to appeal. 
He was now in the plenitude of power, and he knew wheth- 
er four years separation from my family, and that detesta- 
ble and atrocious law, that it should he felony to corres- 
pond with me, entered either into the letter or the spirit cf 
my agreement with him, for so alone I shall consent to call 
it; or whether so base and virulent a persecution was a 
just return for the loyalty I had put into the observation of 
my part of this hard bargain, and the moderation I had 
shewn not to speak of the great sacrifice I had made to 
humanity and peace. I was warmly counselled also by 
my friends, and I had sincere ones in every class (for I 
have sought only the good, and shunned only the vicious 
of any party) to apply directly to lord Cornwallis for re- 
dress. Nobody doubted, that he who had power to make 
such an agreement would have power to make it respect- 
ed. Or that he being entrusted with the destiny of so raa- 

f Mr. Lauriston, the Aid-de-Camp who carried the news to 
England, was drawn in triumph, by the Englishmen, through 
the streets of London. 



180 MEMOIRS Or 

ny nations, was equal to give a passport to an individual, 
who certainly, under the circumstances, had a right to it. 
But in this my friends, French, Irish and English, were 
alike deceived as the sequel will shew. 

A few days after the arrival of lord Cornwallis, I de- 
manded of him in writing, an audience of a few minutes, 
and after some days, I was at his desire received hy his 
secretary, colonel Littlehales. This gentleman professed 
to he already in possession of my story, at which I was 
well pleased. But that we might the better understand 
each other, I begged to know if he was induced, from any 
tiling he knew of me, to look upon me as a person who was 
guilty of any crime? He answered with a frankness that 
gave me still a better opinion of him, that I was accused of 
being concerned in that which had cost so much blood. I 
replied, that when I was in prison was the time to have 
examined into that; then when I might be truly said to be 
in the hands of my enemies, in the midst of terror and 
carnage; when every law, save those of destruction, was 
suspended; when I had no other possible protection than 
the courage of honor and innocence, I had boldly and un- 
remittingly, to the last hour, demanded a trial, which had 
been shamefully refused. For had it been granted, I 
would have made it too clearly appear against my ac- 
cusers, that they were traitors in every sense of the word; 
and that if I was as they pretended, a rebel, I was a rebel 
only against the crimes of treason, disloyalty, subordina- 
tion, murder, torture, kidnapping, arson, and house-break- 
ing; crimes against which I was bound by my true allegi- 
ance to rebel. It w r as natural I said for those who had 
taken upon themselves to be my judges, accusers and exe- 
cutioners, to propagate zealously such calumny, because as 



WILLIAM SAMPSON. 181 

their crimes were my defence, so my innocence was their 
guilt. They might justify themselves in having by blood- 
shed, which I struggled to prevent, worked the union be- 
tween England and Ireland. But it was too extravagant 
to call an Irishman a traitor, however he might be an 
enemy to such proceedings. And if this great measure 
is to be followed, as it was preceded by proscriptions, trea- 
sons, and persecutions, it must remain a union certainly in 
name alone. Lord Cornwallis's principal glory, I added, 
in Ireland** had been putting a stop to horrors at which 
the human heart recoils, and which I have been disgrace- 
fully persecuted for opposing. I did not deny, that under 
such circumstances, educated as I was in notions of consti- 
tution, liberty, and true religion, I might have been bold, 
or call it mad, enough to have taken the field. But this I 
never had done; and that all the charges against me, such 
as being a French general, a traitor, and so forth, were, 
alike contemptible, and undeserving of an answer. I 
told colonel Littlehales, moreover, that the best compli- 
ment I could offer to lord Cornwallis was to assure him of 
my firm belief, that in my situation he would have dor.e 
the same thing; and that upon no pretext whatever he 
would suffer my countrymen to go over to his country aid 
torture his countrymen or ravish his country-women. If I 
did not think so, and that he would repel them at the peril 
of his existence, I should not think of him as I did, and no 
man should ever have seen me at his door. I also answered 
colonel Littlehales, that of all the charges preferred 
against me, not one happened to be true. But if it was 
any satisfaction to him at any time, I was ready to say to 
what degree, and in what manner, I should have consented 
to repel force by force. 



182 MEMOIRS OF 

Such were the topics I used; but which I certainly urged 
with all the deference due to his situation, and to the per- 
son of the marquis Cornwallis, whom I always wished to 
respect. However, he interrupted me by advising me in 
the name of lord Cornwallis, as a friend, to present him a 
memorial, which he (lord Cornwallis) would undertake to 
forward to the lord lieutenant of Ireland; but that I should 
leave out every thing but what went to prove that I came 
involuntarily into France, and that I had not since I had 
been there joined in any hostility against the government 
of England. And colonel Littlehales added, that he him- 
self would be in Ireland as soon as the memorial could 
be there. And he even advised me to apprise my wife of 
this, and to prevent her coming precipitately over, as I 
told him I had invited her to do after my fruitless applica- 
tion to lord Pelham. He said that he could not take upon 
himself to promise; yet in his opinion it was likely to be, 
since my desire was to return home, a useless trouble and 
expense. He told me that in a few days the post-office 
would be open, and that I might write freely in that way; 
but as I feared the interception of my letters, that channel 
having long ceased to be inviolate, he charged himself 
with the care of forwarding a letter to my wife, to the 
effect abovementioned. In this letter I advised her to 
wait a little longer, until an answer to this application 
should be given. But above all, to be prepared for either 
event. This letter never reached her. 



WILLI A.M SAMPSON* 183 

I then drew up and delivered the following memorial: 

To his Excellency the Marquis Comwallis, his British Ma- 
jesty's Minister Plenipotentiary in France, 

The Memorial of William Sampson, native of London- 
derry, 

SHEWETH, 

That your memorialist, upon the faith of an agreement 
entered into with your excellency's government, did go to 
Portugal for the recovery of his health, where he arrived 
in the month of February, 1799. 

Upon the 22d of March in the same year, he was arrest- 
ed in the city of Oporto, sent prisoner to Lisbon, and from 
thence transported by force to Bordeaux. 

In this latter city he remained until the beginning of the 
last winter, when he was induced, by the rumor of peace 
and the advice of his friends, to come to Paris, in hopes 
of finding some means of reclaiming justice, such as your 
excellency's arrival in this country at length seemed to 
offer. 

Immediately after his arrival in France, he took pains to 
apprise the government of his country of an outrage so 
flagrant, which was accordingly effected by Mr. Dobbs, 
a member of the Irish parliament, to whom he begs leave 
to refer your excellency. 

Your memorialist also refers your excellency to his 
grace the duke of Portland, who was very early informed 
of this transaction, and who in consequence gave orders, 
that letters should pass between your memorialist and his 
wife, through the hands of Mr. Cotes; to which gentle- 
man he also refers. 

Upon your excellency's arrival in Paris he requested an 



184 MEMOIRS OF 

a idience, in order, if any doubt remained upon your mind, 
to remove it. That refused, he must necessarily, to avoid 
recrimination, pass over details which however mildly 
stated could only tend to excite horror, and shortly beg 
of your excellency to consider, 

That, notwithstanding the inhuman manner of his be- 
ing cast upon an enemy's shore, surrounded by the snares 
of perfidy and malice; under every circumstance of ag- 
gravated provocation; with precarious means of subsist- 
ence, and deprived of all knowledge of the destination or 
even existence of his family; he took counsel, not from his 
wrongs, but from his honor, so that it is absurd, if not im- 
possible, to enter into any justification of a character so 
proudly unimpeached. 

Your memorialist therefore requests, that all further 
persecution may cease. And though the world is not 
rich enough to make him any compensation for the inju- 
ries he has sustained, he may be allowed, as far as possi- 
ble, to forget the past and to return to his country, in 
order to join his family after a separation of near four 
years, and take measures for his future establishment, &c. 

William Samp sox. 

Paris, November 13, 1801. 

Thus the matter stood when lord Cornwallis left Paris 
for Amiens. The memorial contained such facts, such 
proofs and such references, as left nothing to doubt. It 
would have been insulting lord Cornwallis to have offered 
him proof, had it been possible, that I did not arrest myself 
in Portugal, and imprison myself in the house of the 
corrigidor of Oporto, and in the dungeons of Lisbon. But 
I had long ago referred to Mr. Walpole, who knew it all* 



WIXLIAM SAMPSON. 18g 

With fespect to what I had not done in France, it was 
scarcely to be expected that I should have proofs of that. 
Yet fortune seemed to favor justice in that respect. For 
the general (Musnier) now sent to command in the city of 
Amiens, was an officer of unquestioned honor and a 
man of high consideration in every respect: and this gen- 
tleman had commanded at Bordeaux when I was there. 
Having had the good fortune to form a friendship and inti- 
macy with him, he knew my whole manner of life in that 
town, until his departure for the army of reserve; a short 
time before, I myself quitted Bordeaux. I therefore wrote 
a letter to general Musnier, and begged of him to testify 
what he knew: and I wrote also by the same post to 
colonel Littlehales to apprise him of this fact. 

From this latter gentleman I received the answer sub- 
joined: 

Sir, 

I received the honor of your letter of the 
8th. instant last night: and in answer to its contents, I 
have only to assure you, that I sealed and forwarded the 
letters, which you transmitted through me to Mrs. Samp- 
son, the day they reached me. 

In regard to your memorial to lord Cornwallis, I like- 
wise submitted it to his lordship, and by his desire 
transmitted it to one of the under secretaries of state for 
the home department, to be laid before lord Pelham. 

I shall enquire on my arrival in London, which will 
probably be very soon, whether pr not your memorial has 

z 



186 MEMOIRS OF 

been duly received: but it is not in my power further to 
interfere in your case. 

I have the honor to be, Sir, 
Your most obedient 
Humble servant, 

E. B. LlTTLEHALES. 

TV. Sampson, Esq. 

And from general Musnier, I had the following letter 
written in English: 

a Monsieur William Sampson, 
Hotel Bourbon, Rue Jacob, 

a Paris. 
I delivered, dear sir, your letter to Col. Little- 
hales, and I have the satisfaction to tell you he received 
it in a very obliging manner, and assured me that the 
marquis Cornwallis had written to the Irish government 
in your favor. He promised me also to inform you of 
the answer, and to continue his endeavors for the success 
of your desires. Be assured nothing on my side shall be 
wanting to prevent their forgetting to forward this affair. 
I am ever yours, 

Musnier. 
Amitns, 22d Frimaire, lQth year. 

Thus things remained until the latter end of January, 
when I heard from my wife, that Mr, Dobbs had been 
told by Mr. Marsden, that I could not be permitted to re- 
turn home; but that there was no objection to my family 
being permitted to come to me. 

This Mr. Marsden is the same gentleman of the law, 
who so candidly arranged with lord Castlereagh the recog- 



WILLIAM SAMPSON. 187 

nisance I was obliged to sign, before I could quit bride- 
well. After what had passed in Paris, I did not expect to 
be turned round again to Mr. Marsdcn to ask for an an- 
swer. It was to lord Cornwallis, and not to Mr. Marsden, 
I had addressed myself. As to Mr. Marsden, I think of 
him just as I did before: as to him and his associates they 
cotdd never deceive me, for I never trusted them; nor 
Gould any thing they could say either wound or injure me: 
for 

"Insults are innocent where men are worthless" 

But lord Cornwallis's honor was at stake: it became 
him to have redressed me, and he has not done it. 

Here then was at length something that appeared to be 
decided; at least there seemed to be a relinquishment of 
that monstrous idea of separating me from my family. 
My friends and I were now assured, that passports would 
no longer be refused to my family to come and join me; 
but the venom was not yet assuaged. My persecution had 
not reached its term: for my wife about this time, having 
written to the duke of Portland, in her impatience to 
know her destiny; he answered her, and promised to 
lay her letter before lord Pelham; and after some time 
she received the following letter from Mr. King: 

Madam, 

I am directed by lord Pelham to acquaint 
you, in answer to your letter to the duke of Portland of 
the 5th instant, requesting permission for your husband 
to return to Ireland, that his lordship is very sorry it is 
Hot in his power to comply with your request. 
i" am 9 Madam, 

Four most obedient humble servant, 

J. King. 



188 MEMOIRS OF 

Indeed the letter by which my kinsman, Mr. iJobbs* 
announced Mr. Marsden's answer to my wife, was off 
very bad augur for any view either of humanity, of justice* 
towavds me, towards my unoffending wife and children, 
or my wretched country. In it are these expressions* 
"I received a letter from your husband a short time ago," 
and then it concludes "I would have written to him, but 
I do not feel that, under the existing circumstances, / 
ought to do so." Now this Mr. Dobbs is my near kinsman. 
He is a man whom I myself recommended and prevailed 
upon to be the agent of negociation between the stafte-pris- 
oners and the government, at a time when it entered little 
into my thoughts, or his, or those of any other person, that 
I was to be the dupe of the generous part I acted. As to 
my kinsman, he could riot be accused of any but the most 
natural and inoffensive motive for corresponding with me, 
and the circumstances he stood in as an agent in the bar- 
gain I made, called upon him imperiously to communicate 
with me. Judge then, by these expressions in his letter, 
of the terror that still broods over this newly united king- 
dom, so degrading to those who live under its iron sway, 
and a thousand times more dreadful to an honest mind 
than, death. 

END OF THE LETTERS WRITTEN IN FRANCE 



WtfcttlM SAMPSON> 188 

THE SUBJECT CONTINUED) 
IN A SERIES OF 

LETTERS FROM NEW-YORK, 



IETTER XXVIlk 

bf the Terror in France, 

New- York, 1807. 
YOUft flattering expressions, my dearest friend, 
and the interest you take in my fate, are reward enough 
for any trouble it can cost me, to give my opinion upon 
the topics you point out; and to relate the sequel of my 
story. As in every work some method must be observed, 
I shall take the first that presents itself, and in adopting 
the order of your questions, make each the subject of a 
separate letter. 

To speak of the terror in France is, I must sa} r , to be- 
gin with the most painful part of my task. To defend or 
justify the enormities committed on that great theatre, 
could least of all be expected ft'om one of my principles 
or feelings. He who has been devoted to the cause of 
liberty, and a martyr to the desire of promoting human 
liappiness, must turn with most natural abhorrence from 
the vices by which the idol of his heart has been profaned= 



100 MEMOIRS OF 

But since the world has been made to resound with these 
crimes; since they have been celebrated through the uni- 
verse by eloquence so much beyond my pretensions, until 
every echo has been wearied with the repetition of them, 
it would be an idle affectation to go over a ground so 
beaten. I could however wish, that those who have been 
so zealous in proclaiming the sufferings of the victims to 
the French terror, had been themselves more innocent of 
them. That their machinations, intrigues and inter- 
ference, had not tended to promote them. And I could 
further wish, that if they were innocent of that terror, 
they had been also guiltless of one more cruel and more 
'horrible; for too truly may the French terrorist reply to 
the English terrorist, "mutato nomine de te fabula narra- 
tur;" by altering the names of things we do not change 
their nature: and what is tyranny in France, cannot be 
ennobled in Ireland by the appellation of "loyalty," of 
"royalty" or of "vigor beyond the law!" 

You express your wonder, that in a civilized country, 
either monsters should be found to plan such deeds, or in- 
struments to execute them. But it is surely less wonder- 
ful that they should happen during the first convulsive 
throws of a nation bursting the bonds of ancient thraldom; 
a people long used to abject submission, suddenly and vio- 
lently becoming masters; and where hostile interference of 
foreigners, malevolent intrigues, and ferocious threats, had 
carried rage and despair into the hearts of the multitude, 
than that they should happen under a regular and settled 
government. 

The state and parliamentary proceedings of England, 
and also the proclamations of the duke of Brunswick, at 
I he head of a foreign army, before any terror had been 



WLTXIAM SAMPSON, 191 

practised, threatened the people of France with lire and 
sword. The fate of such measures under general Bur- 
goyne and the others in America, was a sufficiently recent 
example to have served as a warning against that mode of 
dragooning, if perverse men were capable of taking a les- 
son from experience, or measuring with a judicious eye 
the present and the past. 

Then if we must wonder at mad cruelty, let it rather 
be, that such deeds could be perpetrated under a govern - 
ment vast and powerful, which had neither interest nor 
temptation to be any thing but just! Of the terror in Ire- 
land my former correspondence may have given you some 
faint idea: some histories since published in more detail, 
may have fallen into your hands: and indeed the horror 
of those enormities, in spite of all the pains taken to sup- 
press it, seems at length to have made its way to the 
hearts and understandings of the intelligent and virtuous 
in most parts of the civilized world. And perhaps it is 
now in England alone, that they are least known or felt 
I must observe, nevertheless, that every historian who 
has treated of them, seems more or less tinctured with the 
spirit of the times, and to crouch under the sentiment we 
deplore: so that whilst it is above all things meritorious 
to blazon the crimes of me French revolutionists, it is 
held treasonable and desperate to speak of those of Ire- 
land, as if the ancient proverb, "we are born to suffer," 
was intended for the edification of Irishmen alone! 

For this reason I think it due to justice and to truth, to 
draw some lines of impartial comparison between these 
two parties. 

First. In France the jacobin chiefs were not, as I ever 
could learn, avariciously interested: few of them einicheci 



} 92 MEMOIRS OF 

themselves; and it was not until after the fall or decline of 
their system that great fortunes were made in France out 
of the public spoil. Now in Ireland, murderers, denoun- 
cers and traitors were loaded with rewards. And he of 
the Irish who committed the most cruelties against his 
countrymen was distinguished with most favor. 

Secondly. In France, though death was wantonly in- 
flicted in a way to make human nature shudder, yet the 
crime of corporal torture was not resorted to even where 
guilt was proved; in Ireland, torture of the innocent mere- 
ly to extort accusation, was the avowed system, and in- 
demnified as ^loyalty and vigor beyond the law!" 

Thirdly. Jn France, the Catholic clergy were banished; 
in Ireland they were hanged. Many of the French have 
since returned, and live happy in their country; those 
flanged in Ireland can never more return. 

Fourthly. In France it was 31 question which of two 
principles of government should prevail; in Ireland it was 
whether there should be a national or a foreign govern- 
ment. I cannot give much credit to the English minis- 
ters for their zeal in this controversy. For as Mr. Sheri- 
dan once pointedly observed, England had incurred a 
ruinous debt of six hundred millions of pounds sterling, 
one half of which was to pull down the Bourbons, and 
the other Xo set them up. No more consistent was it to 
send king George's troops to protect the person of the 
Pope in Rome, and then to tell him that his coronation- 
oath prevented him from giving relief to his Catholic sub- 
jects at home. 

Fifthly. There was no instance in France of men being 
put to death for saving the lives of their persecutors. In 
Ireland it was done; 



WIIXIAM SAMPS Off. 193 

Sixthly. I never could hear that that most brutal of all 
ferocity, the forcible violation of female chastity, had made 
part of the system of terror in France; that it did in Ire- 
land is too deplorably true. 

There is a story related and strongly attested to me, 
which it would be unjust to suppress: Two young ladies 
of the Orange or governmeut faction, whose father, Mr. 

H . G , had rendered himself by violent cruelty 

peculiarly obnoxious; and who (shame of their sex) had 
performed with their own hands many acts of torture and 
indignity, fell into the power of the rebels. Their con- 
sciences suggested that they ought to share jfche fate which 
the Irish women had suffered on similar occasions. They 
addressed themselves to certain young officers of the rebel 
detachment, requesting their protection from the mob; 
but offering, as to them, to surrender their persons at dis- 
cretion. The rebel officers replied with dignity and gene- 
rosity, that they had taken arms against the enemies of 
their eountry, to punish their crimes, but not to imitate 
them. 

I might push this parallel much further; but it would 
be useless, and it is certainly disgusting: still, however, 
your question recurs; how instruments can be found in 
any country to execute such deeds as makes us sometimes 
detest our very species, and almost wish to be of any 
other. 

Grave and true as this reflection is, let us not, my dear- 
est friend, push it too far. And above all, in christian 
and charitable hope let us presume that all who have had 
part in these crimes are not in equal guilt. Might it not 
be possible that even some are innocent? 

Without recurring to the tyrannies of gemote or an- 
ia 



194 MEMOIRS OE 

cicnt nations, and all their histories are pregnant wttL 
such instances, let us take that of England alone in her 
civil wars. Multitudes have fallen innocently for what 
did not concern them. Witness the wars of the white 
and the red rose. Yet in those wars all the nohle blood 
was attainted with treason and rebellion; whilst the vul- 
gar rotted without name. All England was in action on 
one side or other; but it would be too violent to say 
dhere was no man of either party innocent. 

At an after period, when in the name of the ever living 
God of Peace and Love, the pile was lighted to burn here- 
tics and schismatics, and those who would neither swear 
nor subscribe to new doctrines and articles of credence 
understood by nobody, were cast into the flames; and those 
that did subscribe and swear to them, were, in their 
turn, as the balance of dominion shifted, cast into the 
flames. When the child yet unborn was ripped from the 
mother's womb, and cast into the flames, and when the 
whole nation was fanaticised on the one side or the other, 
was no man innocent? 

In all the wars of conquest and of plunder, in which 
England has had her ample share, was no man innocent? 

In all the cruelties committed in America, in Africa, and 
in India, by the English, was no man innocent? 

In all the barbarous crimes committed by our ancestors? 
the English, against our ancestors, the Irish, as bloody as 
those which have happened in our own days, was no 
man innocent? 

When you will have answered all these questions, you 
will have found the solution of your own. 

Let us endeavor to cherish the most consolatory senti- 
ment. Example, education, habit, ignorance, the influ- 



WIIXIAM SAMFSOX. 193 

ciice of power, the smooth seductions of corruption and cf 
luxury, the warmth of passion, the baneful effects of calum- 
ny and imposture, mistaken zeal which degenerates into 
bigotry, the weakness of the coward and the pressure of 
the tyrant* the temptations of wealth and the goadings of 
necessity, are so many fatal snares ever lying in wait for 
the integrity of miserable man. None have ever suddenly 
become consummate in iniquity; the gradations are often 
insensible. Few causes so had but may put on some shew 
of fairness; and the human mind, seldom free from bias of 
some kind, finds too easy an excuse in sophistry and self- 
delusion for its first deviations; but the path of rectitude,, 
once forsaken, is not easily regained.. 

Such is the human heart; its issues are strange and in 
scrutable, and the paths of error many and intricate. I 
have often witnessed with deep regret these early conflicts 
between virtue and error, in the breast of those I loved. 
I have seen them struggle; I have seen them suffer; I have 
seen them falter, and I have seen them fall. I have seen 
them turn away from me, whilst my heart was yet warm 
towards them, and have lamented it in vain; and I have 
seen, that when the soul first proves recreant to truth, and 
first swerves from the acknowledged principles of immu- 
table and eternal justice, it is from that moment diffi- 
cult to say how far its aberrations may cvxtend. In the 
beginning it will search for pretexts and excuses; by de~ 
sjrees it will be more easily satisfied; until at length con- 
science becomes callous and crime familiar. 

Enough, my best friend, of this dismal subject. I have 
pursued it so far in compliance with your request. It is 
for nrv own peace now, that I beg your permission io re- 



196 MEMOIRS 0¥ 

linquish it, and proceed to your next enquiry, if not more 
easy of solution, at least more agreeable. 



1ETTER XXIX. • 

) 

Of the Character of the French Nation. 

ON this head I should greatly fear to add to the 
number of tourists and travellers, who have said much and 
said little; whose only merit has been to put together 
stale conceits and garbled anecdotes. But you say that 
every nation has a character, and I readily admit it. In 
general the lines of national character are as distinct as 
the features of the face^ But truly to designate them 
belongs only to a few favored geniuses, and would require 
the pencil of Hogarth or the pen of Sterne. Every one 
knows that the French are gay, gallant and courteous. I 
need not repeat, that they dance well, and that they fight 
well. They are said to be insincere, vain and inconstant, 
all which perhaps is true, and may lessen the dignity and 
importance of their character. I am neither partial to 
them, nor bigotted against them. I may be partial to my 
own country, perhaps the more because* it is unfortunate. 
I may be partial to the country of my adoption, because I 
find in it that liberty which in my own is lost; but I am 
partial to no other; yet it would be unjust to deny that in 
that one, into which the wickedness of my enemies drove 
me to take refuge, and where I was compelled to remam 
near seven years with little else to do than to observe, I 



WIIXIAM S AMI'S OX. 19C 

have found friends as generous and sincere as any I have 
known elsewhere. Sincere indeed, because my fortunes 
were too low to buy me friends. Nor had I ever any rea- 
son to feel or to suppose I had an enemy. I did not like 
all I saw in France: I detested much of it. I grieved to 
find that a great event which had bid fair, as I once 
thought, and as good men hoped, to extend the sphere of 
human happiness, and the empire of reason, knowledge 
and philosophy, should, after deluges of human blood, 
serve to no other end, than to plunge mankind still deep- 
er in the gulph of corruption and tyranny! But I held it 
as my duty to respect the power that protected me; and 
though my opinions were not much disguised, I never was 
molested for them. 

That the French are insincere, is perhaps true; because 
they are naturally given to exaggeration; but with all 
that insincerity, I know of no people who will from mere 
kindness and politeness confer so many favors, and that 
with so good a grace; it is therefore more agreeable to 
live among them, undoubtedly, insincere as they may be, 
than with a people disagreeably sincere and not more be- 
nevolent. As far as manners are in question, theirs are 
the most hospitable on the earth. 

That they are vain, is true. I wish the conduct of many 
of their enemies had given them better cause to be less 
vain. They have however the good sense to temper their 
vanity with the forms of courtesy, which is better still 
than to be proud and brutal, as some other people are, 
who mistake stiffness for dignity, sullenness for superiori- 
ty, and abruptness for sincerity. 

Their inconstancy proceeds from that which is the true 
basis of all their actions, and the essential difference be- 



198 MEMOIRS O* 

tween their character and that of other nations, the ex- 
treme love of enjoyment, or as they themselves call it, U 
hesobi de joitir. They are the true epicureans. They 
love pleasure ahove all things, and will huy it at any price. 
They will fight, coax, flatter, cheat — any thing to gain it. 
But this justice must be allowed them, that feeling the ne- 
cessity of being pleased, they think it a duty to be agreea- 
ble; and they seemed to have formed a social contract to 
amuse and be amused reciprocally. On the same epicurian 
principle, that they love pleasure beyond all other people, 
shun pain, and are beyond all others ingenious in giv- 
ing it a defeat. And against that kind of pain for which 
they have a term so appropriate, that other nations are 
obliged to borrow it from them, that torment of the idler, 
which they call ennui, they are ever actively in arms. 

Set a Frenchman down in any part of the earth, in 
peace or in war; let him be destitute of every thing, he 
will make the best of his position. And no sooner will he 
have provided himself with food and raiment, than he will 
liave sought out some means for his amusement. II faut 
samiiser is a fundamental maxim of their philosophy, and 
they will tell you, Autant vaut crever ihfaim que de crever 
d'ennui. And indeed the most favorable aspect under 
wiiijeh the French character can t>e viewed, is that which 
so many of the unfortunate emigrants have assumed, when 
under the pressure of misfortune and disgrace, they have 
turned with so much cheerfulness the little accomplish- 
ments of their education to profit, or struck out with ad* 
mirablc ingenuity new inventions of their own industry,. 

Another remarkable singularity is, that the French, a}* 
though gay, versatile and airy, are governed more than 
any other people by settled rules of conduct and of befia- 



WILLIAM SAMPSON. 199 

viour. These rules constitute their social code, and are 
entitled usage. The highest praise you can bestow, on a 
stranger particularly, is, that he has beauconp d' usage. A 
proud Englishman of my acquaintance once thought him- 
self insulted by a compliment of that kind from a gentle- 
man, and seemed inclined to return it ungraciously, until 
a lady interfered and set the thing to rights, by saying. 
que Vusage n'empeehe pas d'avoir de Vesprit il sert seulemcnt 
a le regler. To be original on the same principle is to he 
ridiculous, and this sentiment has passed into a bye- 
word; so that c'st un original is the same as to say, that 
is a quiz. It may be a question, however, whether this 
scrupulous attention to routinary and practical observances 
does not sometimes damp the fire, of the imagination and 
the freedom of true wit. 

When you ask me then, how I like the French, I say. 
how should I like them but well. Englishmen am? 
Frenchmen may be natural enemies; but the Irish, to 
whom they have never done such injuries as the English 
have, and who have found an asylum in their country in 
every period of their oppressions, have no need to be 
their enemies. At all events, they are still in a stare of 
permanent and natural alliance with the charms of their 
women and their wine. And this brings me to speak of 
the French ladies, wlm arc very deserving of a separate 
notice, \J 

Of the French Women* 

What a subject, Oh Jupiter! What mlise* to invoke! 
what colors to employ! Who is he that can describe this 
whimsical^ incomprehensible and interesting being? 



200 MEMOIRS Of 

Well did Sterne say, that "nothing here was salique 
but the government." For the ladies of France, to in- 
demnify themselves for this exclusion from the throne, 
have seized upon the most despotic power, and rule dver 
their subjects with absolute sway. 

A pretty woman in France is a sovereign prince, who 
knows neither resistance nor controul. She is an ambi- 
tious potentate, that makes conquests and cedes them, and 
will exchange a subject as a province. In the midst of 
her circle she is a law-giver, and her decrees, like the 
proclamations of king Henry the eighth, have the full force 
of acts of parliament. At her toilet she holds her levy; 
in her boudoir she gives private audience, and in her bed 
she receives her ministers. She has favorites and officers 
of state, and confirms their honors by a kiss of her hand. 
Her train is filled with rival courtiers and jealous expect- 
ants, whom she keeps in peace and civility by her sove- 
reign authority. Her forces, like her ways and means, 
are inexhaustible. She pays her servants with a smile, 
and subdues her enemies with a frown. She makes war 
with the artillery of her eyes, and peace she seals with the 
impression of her lips. Rebels and male-contents she pun- 
ishes with exile or death, as the case may be. She pro- 
tects learning, science and the arts. Authors submit 
their works to her, and artists implore her patronage. 
She receives the homage of the gay, of the grave, of the 
old and of the young. The sage, the hero, the wit and 
the philosopher, all range themselves under her banners 
and obey her laws. In all the concerns of life she rules, 
directs, presides. She transacts all affairs; projects, de- 
cides and executes. She is in all temporal matters liege 
lady and proprietor; the resolution of a man, the grace of 



W1IXIAM SAMPSON. 201 

an angel. As to her capacities, she is but an elegant little 
variety of man. Her titles are undisputed. Ask whose 
house that is: it belongs to Madame une telle! Has she a 
husband? 1 cant say: I never saw any. 

Will you have a more familiar instance? I was sitting 
at the fire side with my wife; a tradesman brought in a 
pair of boots; I asked if they were my boots? I do not 
know, sir, I believe they are for the husband of madame! 
Enquire who is that cavalier? He is of the society of 

madame .. She is the sun of a sphere, and all 

her planets and satellites walze round her; and her voice 
is the music of the sphere. 

Taught from her infancy to please, and conscious of 
her power by its effects, she wears the air of acknowledged 
superiority, and receives man's submission as her due. 
Yet ever zealous to extend her empire, ever active in main 
taining it, she neglects no art, no charm, no seduction. 
When she moves, it is all grace; when she sings, it is all 
sentiment; when she looks, it is all expression; when she 
languishes, it is all softness; when she frolics it is all riot; 
when she sighs, it is all tenderness; when she smiles it is 
all happiness; and when she laughs, all is mirth. She is 
good-humored from philosophy, and kind from calculations 
Her beauty is her treasure, and she knows that Ill-humors 
impair it. Be ne pas se faire mauvais sang, is her car- 
dinal maxim. Thus, with all the vivacity of her nature, 
she shuns strong emotions, and becomes upon principle* 
dispassionate and cold; for her ambition is to be adoroxL, 
and not to love — Hold, hold, I hear you exclaim, then she 
is a coquette? Alack-a-day, my friend, and it is even so! 

But let justice ever guide my pen. However coquet- 
tish these fascinating beings mav be; however generally 

sb 



202 MEMOIRS 01 

they may be charged with gallantry, and I am no kniglit- 
errant, nor bound to prove the contrary; yet I believe 
many there are who speak of them unfairly, and "fancy 
raptures that they never knew." And I think I can as= 
sure you, that there are in France as affectionate and 
faithful wives, as tender and attentive mothers, as in any 
other country of the earth* Such, however, are not natu- 
rally the first to present themselves to the acquaintance of 
the stranger or traveller. 



1ETTER XXX. 



Journey to Hamburg — Occupations — Coi'respondcncc—Jlf, 
Thornton — Lord Hawkesbury — Mr. Fox. 

IT is time now that my accounts are settled and 
my debts discharged in France, that we should think of 
leaving it. From the year 1799, until the arrival of Mrs. 
Sampson in 1802, I had led a bachelor's life, which had 
given me an opportunity of making a very numerous ac- 
quaintance. If ever we should meet again, I might per- 
haps amuse you with such observations as I have been 
able to make upon some of those who now figure amongst 
the first personages of the universe, and with my opinions 
of their various merits. But besides that I should fear to 
weary your patience, I am now obliged to dedicate almost 
all my hours to the occupations and studies of my profes- 
sion, and am forced to hurry through this correspondence 
in a manner more careless, and abrupt tlian you mighi 



WIXJ.IA&I SAMPSON. 20„S 

otherwise have reason to be pleased with. Necessity is 
in this case my apology; and I count upon your accept- 
ance of it. 

After the arrival of Mrs. Sampson my life became once 
more domestic. We joined our labours in the education 
of our children, which became our chief pleasure and our 
principal care. We were not unrewarded for our pains. 
Their letters in various languages, which I have for- 
warded to you, may give you some idea of the progress of 
their understandings, and are the unstudied effusions of 
*heir innocent hearts. We spent three summers in the 
charming valley of Montmorency and as many winters in 
Paris, not so much to enjoy its brilliant pleasures as to 
give our children the advantage of the best masters in 
those accomplishments which they could never learn so 
well elsewhere. But at length? some symptoms of declin- 
ing health in my son, certain family concerns, and the 
desire my wife had to revisit a kind and excellent mother 
whom she loves with a deserved enthusiasm, decided us to 
endeavor at returning. Indeed I was tired of living in- 
active, and long wished to take my flight for the happy 
country where late, it seems, had intended I should at last 
repose. 

The intensity of the war with England made a state of 
neutrality and independence more difficult to be preserved; 
and the sincerity of my disposition allowed of no disguise. 
I applied therefore for a passport which I obtained, not 
without difficulty, to go to Hamburg; and this was granted 
on the recommendation of my countrymen who were in the 
French service, and from other persons of distinction, 
and who were willing to do me every good office. My 
passport was that of a prisoner of war, signed by the min 



2p4 MEMOIRS OJ 

ister of war and countersigned by the minister of police, 
(8ee Appendix No. XV. J 

Nothing in our journey was worth remarking until we 
arrived at Rotterdam. There we were like to have suffer- 
ed a heavy misfortune from the loss of our only son, who 
was attacked with a violent fever, which detained us, I 
think, six weeks. The only pleasure or consolation we 
had in this town, was in the goodness and hospitality of 
Mr. George Crawfurd, a Scotch gentleman of good for- 
fcme, who without place or office represents his country, 
by his reception of strangers from every quarter of the 
world, in a distinguished and honorable manner. 

We spent some days at the Hague, and about the latter 
end of June left Holland, passing from Amsterdam across 
the Zuyder Sea, and reached Hamburg in the month of 
July. On my arrival I thought it prudent to present my- 
self both to the French and English minister. For if I 
was to go to England, I should require the protection of 
the latter; or if circumstances should oblige me to return 
to France, Gf the former. 

I lost no time in announcing to Mr. Thornton my situa- 
tion and my wishes, and produced to him such of my 
papers as might satisfy him at once of my identity and my 
views; and after some explanation he undertook to write 
to lord Hawkesbury respecting my permission to conduct 
my wife and children home. 

I must say, that of all the towns where it has been my 
fortune to be, this was the least agreeable. Hitherto our 
little means, backed by the various kindnesses and par- 
tialities of friends, had made our course of life smooth 
and agreeable, nor was there any reasonable gratification 
to which we were strangers, In this place, the yery as* 



WILLIAM SAMPSON? )Z06 

pect of which is odious, there were few sources of enjoy- 
ment, and those expensive. From one or two respectable 
families we received some attentions; but we soon found 
that retirement was our best prospect of comfort. 

There is a custom inhospitable, and deserving* of animad- 
version, which has too much prevalence in other countries, 
but which is pushed to extreme both in Holland and in 
this city, which is, that the guest must pay a heavy ran 
som at any genteel house, to get out of the hands of the 
servants. I bave been told that some servants get m 
other wages. I should not wonder if they bought their 
places. At all events, between coach-hire, ransom and 
cards,' at which I never play without losing, we found a 
dinner or supper too dear for our shattered fortunes, and 
determined prudently to live on ourselves. I had besides, 
a horror of this town, from the recollection of the cruel- 
ties committed upon certain of my countrymen, as you will 
see by the short, simple and truly interesting narrative 
lately published at Versailles, by William Corbet, en- 
titled La conduite da senat de Hamburg dpvoilee mix yeux 
de I'Europe, of which I send you a copy. We provided 
ourselves, therefore, with a lodging at a place called 
Slavshoff, on the banks of the Elbe, near Altona, the 
same which the English minister, Rumbold, had occupied 
at the time of his arrest; and there we dedicated oifr time 
as before to the care and education of our children. My 
son was now eleven years of age, and sufficiently advanced 
to make his tuition a source of some amusement and profit 
to myself. We often walked with our book along the 
strand, and divided our time between exercise and study, 
I was a play-fellow to him and he was a companion to me. 
When we met an agreeable and sequestered spot, we sat 



886 MEMOIRS 0£ 

clown to study, and when tired we got up and walked. 
Thus we followed the outward discipline of the Peripatet- 
ic school, though in many things we differed from it, and 
held considerably less to the opinions of Aristotle. It is 
curious to recollect how many didactic sentences, how 
many grave aphorisms, rules of criticism, logic and philoso- 
phy, that poor child has been cajoled to swallow, as well 
W the banks of this river, as in the lovely forest of Mont- 
morency, cither climbing upon a rock, or swinging on 
the bow of a green tree. 

My daughter was about nine years old and gifted, if 
my partiality docs not deceive me, with uncommon powers 
of mind! The facility with which she could conceive and 
icarn things above the level of her years, often surprised 
and delighted me. She had besides a little arch turn of 
Irish drollery, which enhanced her merit in my eyes, with 
an amiable caressing manner, and above all a heart full 
of sensibility and goodness. 

She had learned at Paris to dance and to draw. In the 
former she became in a short time very excellent, even in 
that country where that accomplishment is so universal 
and so improved. Her brother acquitted himself very 
well also; and they have sometimes innocently figured in 
their old and new gavottee of vestris, before some of the 
first good company of Europe. I knew just enough of 
this matter, from having paid attention to their lessons, to 
exercise them. I had stolen some instructions from their 
drawing masters, and having a natural love of the art, I 
was in some slight degree qualified to be their teacher un- 
^"1 a better could be had. I taught them moreover to 
write, in which my son has now surpassed me, and to 
county and now he and I are perhaps on a par. I made 



WILMAM SAMPSON. 207 

them write little letters to each other alternately in French 
and English, and as I soon learned to read the Hamburgh 
Correspondenten, so I began to teach my son to read the 
German. But in this the scholar soon became master* 
and he repaid me in a short time for my poor lessons in 
the German language, by teaching me to speak it and to 
write it. He had then advanced so far in the Latin as 
to have a sort of understanding of the JEneid, and in a few 
months more would have had no difficulty with any Latin 
author, had I not judged it preferable, for fear of oppress- 
ing his mind with too many studies, to drop that course 
in order that ho might take more full advantage of the 
opportunity that offered of acquiring the German. And. 
though we were now in Germany, yet you would be much 
surprised at the difficulties we had to attain this end. 
During the summer which we spent at Slavshoff, I in vain 
endeavored to get him put to school, for it was necessary 
to conform to the rules of these seminaries, and to send 
him to board there for a certain length of time, with 
other circumstances, which did not square with my plans. 
In the house where we lived there was no person but the 
gardner who spoke German. He was a Hanoverian; all 
the rest, masters and servants, were French. In the shops 
&nd all other places where any little affairs might lead us, 
they preferred speaking bad French or bad English, to 
hearing our bad German: and indeed the language of 
Hamburg and Altona is a most barbarous jargon, called 
pint Beuch, insomuch that I have been told by those who 
spoke the true language, that they could not understand 
this. Thus my son was indebted for ail he knew o£ the 
polite German, to the Hanoverian (George) until he re 
jturned in the winter to Hamburg) and here the matfe was 



2QS MEMOIRS OtF 

not easily niended. I naturally wished to put him to one 
of the first schools; but there I found it was forbidden 
under fines and penalties, to speak in the German lan- 
guage; and in French or English he needed no instruc- 
tions. I therefore sent him to a school of less pretensions 
where he made a very rapid progress. But leaving this 
subject, let us return to our story. 

You will recollect, that Mr. Thornton had promised, 
shortly after my coming to Hamburg, to write to lord 
Hawkesbury, The summer however passed over without 
any answer; and I then determined to write myself. The 
following is .a copy of my letter: 

To the Right Hon. Lord Hawkesbury, His Majesty's Princi- 
pal Secretary of State, for the Home Department, London. 

Hamburg, September 3, 1801. 
My Lord, 

My case having been already represented 
to government, I shall not trouble your lordship with a 
useless repetition. During eight years I have been sep- 
arated from my friends and my country, under very ex- 
traordinary circumstances. My conduct has defied all 
reproach. And your lordship is too well informed to be 
ignorant of that fact. I do not attempt to reconcile your 
lordship to my avowed conduct and sentiments, prior to 
my arrestation. My peculiar position in my country, and 
the point of view in which I saw what passed within my 
sphere, is so different from any that could ever have pve- 
sented itself to your lordship, that it is impossible you 
could make much allowance for my feelings. But I do not 



I 



WII&IAM SAMPSON, 209 

despair that in time your lordship may acknowledge, that 
I have been too harshly judged. 

It was much to be wished, that the important act 
which succeeded to the troubles in Ireland, had closed all 
her wounds. And yet, though I presume not to dictate, it 
is for government to judge, whether it might not be good 
policy to suffer such as love their country and are not dis- 
respected in it, to return in freedom to it. For my part, 
the frankness I have always used, even where disguise 
might have been justifiable, is the best guarantee, that had 
I intentions injurious to government, I should not proceed 
by asking any favor, it is my duty to suppose all motives 
of personal vengeance beneath the dignity of his majesty's 
ministers, in whose hands are affairs of so very different 
moment. And in that view I have no doubt that the re- 
quest I am about to make will be complied with, as I 
have every conviction that it ought. 

Having formed the design of quitting Europe, where 
during its present agitations I can call no country mine, 
it becomes of urgent necessity that I should conduct my 
family home; the more so, as my son's health has ren- 
dered his native air indispensible. I must also ascertain 
the means of my future subsistence. For under whatever 
embarrassment my voluntary exile to Portugal might have 
laid me, the forceable deportation from thence to France, 
and the extraordinary penalties enacted against me in my 
absence must, your lordship can conceive, have consider- 
ably augmented them. It is now seven weeks since Mr. 
Thornton, his majesty's minister resident at Hamburg, 
had the goodness to charge himself with aw application on 
my behalf to this effect: but he has received no answer, 
and as the bad season advances, I shall request to know 

c c 



210 MEMOIRS OB 

your lordship's determination as early as possible; and 
that you will have the goodness to transmit to that gentle* 
man your lordship's answer, and the passport or permis- 
sion which may be necessary for my safety; by which 
your lordship will confer a very great obligation. 
My Lord, 

Four Lordship's 
Most obedient humble servant, 

Wjixiam Sampson. 

To this there was no other answer than a letter from 
Mr. King, the under secretary of state, to Mr. Thornton. 
All that I could gather was, that my expressions had not 
been pleasing, and were not marked with sufficient contri- 
tion. It does not however require more than this, in any 
transaction, to shew when there is good intention or good 
heart. I had gone as low in humility as I could bring 
myself to go. Was I an injured man, or was I not? One 
would suppose that that was the principal question; or if 
not that, whether it was more wise to drop such unworthy 
persecutions, or to keep them alive to rankle in the hearts 
of an aggrieved people. Such would be the counsel of gen- 
erosity or of wisdom. For if a man be injured, and knows 
and feels it, you only add to his injuries, by extorting 
falss protestations from him, which must aggravate his 
feelings or wouj id his honor. If there be any danger in 
admitting him t o be a citizen of his own country, it is 
doubled by fore ing him to be insincere, and consequently 
treacherous. I it is said by some that governments should 
never acknowl* jdge any wrong. Is it necessary also that 
they should ne ver do any right? 

Finding no* ,v that both my friends and I had been mis 



WIXL1AM SAMPSON* I j 

taken in supposing that any more humane or wiser policy 
had been adopted, I let the matter rest until the spring of 
the next year. During this time I had received several 
advices from my friends, in which it was stated, that all 
such matters were left to the entire disposal of lord Castle- 
reagh, and that without his concurrence it was impossible 
to succeed* And I was strongly urged to address my- 
self at once to hiuij and as all my wrongs had originated 
in his warrant of arrestation, that he might perhaps have 
been willing to wipe away the sense of that injury by a 
well-timed act of justice. It was laying a trap for his gen- 
erosity, but it was not to be caught. However, he had at 
least the good manners to answer me. His letter bears 
date, as you will see, the day on which Mr. Pitt died, 
(Jan. £4, 1806.) 

To 
The Right Honorable 

Lord Viscount CastlereagJu 



Hamburgh, December 31, 1805, 



My Lord, 



Iii the beginning of last summer I left 
Paris to conduct my wife and children to their native 
country; and in the month of September I made, through 
the medium of Mr. Thornton, his majesty's minister resi- 
dent here, a request to my lord Hawkesbury to be permit- 
ted to accompany them, in order to arrange my affairs 
previous to my intended departure for America. It was 
hoped, as well by my friends as myself, that the govern- 
ment would not have refused an indulgence consistent at 



212 MEMOIRS 03? 

once with humanity and policy. And that eight years of 
exile, with a conduct ahove all blame, would have been a 
sufficient expiation, whatever demerit I might have had in 
their eyes. And I was informed that his lordship had 
transmitted my request to the Irish government. 

I have also understood, that in such a case, your lord- 
ship would be materially consulted, and your interference* 
at all events, conclusive. In an affair so important to my 
family, I find it my duty to address myself directly to 
your lordship, to whom it would be useless to repeat fur- 
ther circumstances. If I recollect well, the law by which 
I was exiled, a passport from the secretary of state would 
be sufficient authority. I therefore take the liberty of en- 
treating a speedy answer, as my stay cannot be long in 
this country, which is entirely uncongenial to the state of 
my health. 

J have the honor to be, mij Lord, 
Four Lordship's 
Most obedient servant, 

William Sampson. 



answer. 

Downing-street, January 24, 1806. 
Sir, 

I have to acknowledge your letter of the 
31st ultimo, requesting me to obtain permission for you to 
return to Ireland with your family. I have only in an- 
swer to say, that it is not in my power to interfere or to de- 
cide upon the merits of your case. I have however taken 
an opportunity of transmitting your letter to Mr. Long. 



WILLIAM SAMPSON. 213 

the chief secretary to the Irish government, to be submit- 
ted for the consideration of the lord-lieutenant. 
I am, Sir, 

Your most obedient 
Humble servant, 

CaSTLEREAGH. 

Mr. William Sampson, Hamburgh. 

This was the state of things, when an event surprising 
to me and to every body took place. That same Charles 
Fox, whose name had been expunged by the king's own 
hand from the list of privy counsellors, as mine had been 
from that of Irish counsellors; for it is fair to compare 
great things with small: That Charles Fox, whose 
words had been taken down with a view to his impeach- 
ment, about the same time that I became "suspected of 
treasonable practices." This truly great and amiable man, 
was now, strange to tell, at the head of the cabinet, and 
apparently first in the council of the king. I must say, 
that from the impressions of my mind, I was at first at a 
loss how to believe the fact. I thought it too like wisdom 
to be real. But when that was put beyond doubt, I could 
not think that it was done otherwise than as a trick or 
subterfuge to answer some crooked or temporary purpose. 
However, when the news came that the whole ministry 
was changed; that lord Moira was grand master of the 
ordinance, and Mr. Ponsonby, high chancellor of Ireland; 
that Mr. Grattan and Mr. Curran were thought worthy of 
trust, I no longer doubted that my case would meet with 
difficulty. At the time that I became "suspected," the 
Ponsonbys had, I have been told, soldiers billeted on 
them at free quarters; and they had seceded from the 



Ji4 MEMOIRS OF 

house of commons as a place too corrupt for ail honest 
man to sit in. Mr. Grattan had been disfranchised by the 
corporation of the city of Dublin; his picture taken down 
in Trinity College, and put into the privy -house. The 
name of a street called from him was changed, and he was 
loaded with the grossest obloquy, and often threatened 
With hanging* I remember some persons examined before 
a secret committee, touching his intimacy with me; but 
whether to criminate him by me> or me by him, I do not 
pretend to say. 

Lord Moira had been abused; his tenants massacred, 
and his town threatened with the flames. Mr. Curran 
was once so persecuted, that I was reprobated for visiting 
him; and often urged to change the name of my son, who 
was called after him, and whose sponser he was. I might 
say more, but to what purpose? If there was sincerity in 
man, I might have counted upon the sympathy and friend- 
ship of these persons. I was very true in the attachment 
I had formed for them; I looked upon their great talents 
as ornaments to their country, and wished nor expected no 
other reward than a return of personal friendship* In- 
deed my own independence has ever been the jewel of my 
soul; that I have preserved, and will preserve whilst I 
have life. Will any of these important characters say that 
they were at one time more favored by the peep-qf -day -boys 
than I was? No! the difference was only this: When I 
was suspected, I was not in parliament; when they were ob- 
noxious, they were. And the suspension of the habeas cor- 
pus had respect to that sacred office: "Les loups ne se 
onaugent pas," says the French proverb. The wolves 
dont eat each other; and as members of parliament they 
were safe. But this I call heaven to witness, that the 



WILIIAM SAMPSON 1 . £i5 

proudest of them never acted towards his country with sen- 
timents more holy than I have, and I am sure they know 
it. Enough of this at present. Another time I may come 
back upon this subject; and if I can at the same time do 
these great men honor, and do myself justice, it will be a 
happy task for me. I shall now give you the copies of the 
letters I respectively addressed to them, and that will ad- 
vance me considerably towards the conclusion of my story, 
and put you in possession of my every action, and of every 
feeling of my heart, 



To 
The Right Honorable 

The Earl of Moira 9 

fc. SfC #c. 

Hamburg, February 14, 1806. 
My Lord, 

I hope it will not be disagreeable to your 
lordship, that I take the liberty of offering my compli- 
ments upon the occasion of your lordship, with so many 
other distinguished persons, being called into that situation 
which may give your country the full benefit of your 
talents and high reputation. 

Your lordship will perhaps do me the honor to recollect 
with how much zeal I laboured to be in some degree useful 
to your generous efforts in the Irish parliament, in the 
year 1797. Since that time I have lived chiefly in prison 
or in exile. It would be too long, when your lordship 
must have so many important avocations, to detail all 1 
have suffered since that time; but I pledge myself boldly* 



£16 MEMOIRS OF 

that the friendship which you then favored me with, and 
which your lordship may have forgotten, but I have not, 
will seem still more merited, when you shall he fully ac- 
quainted with the conduct I have opposed to the most un- 
just treatment. 

In the month of May last, I left Paris to conduct my 
family home, and to arrange my affairs previously to my 
quitting Europe for the rest of my life, and settling myself 
in America. In the month of July, I addressed to lord 
Hawkesbury a request to he permitted to pass over for 
that purpose, which I was informed through his majesty's 
minister here, had been transmitted to the Irish govern- 
ment. But I was also informed by some of my friends, 
that the person upon whose influence that condescension 
depended, was lord Castlereagh. Yielding to their coun- 
sel, I wrote to him in December last, but received no an- 
swer until a few days ago, that his lordship by a letter 
dated the 24th of January, informed me that he had 
forwarded my letter to Mr. Long, the chief secretary, but 
he could not interfere. I hope, my lord, that when I fe- 
licitate my country upon the auspicious call of your lord- 
ship to the immediate councils of his majesty, I may ven- 
ture to felicitate myself upon the speedy attainment of a 
request so little unreasonable, and which my family affairs 
render most urgent. I am satisfied that a passport from 
the secretary of state in England would answer the inten- 
tion of the act of banishment, in which I was included, 
and be sufficient authority for my return; trusting that, 
under your lordship's protection, if any thing else should 
afterwards be thought necessary, it would be obtained. 
The tedious delay in this place has been very unfavorable 
to my health, and very vexatious to me; and I hope 



WILLIAM SAMPSON. 217 

this will excuse me for pressing for a speedy answer. I 
should have written to Mr. Ponsonby and Mr. Grattan, 
both of whom have witnessed how disinterestedly I have, 
in critical times, labored to prevent mischief and to do 
good; but I am uncertain whether they may not be called 
by their respective offices to Ireland. 

I shall beg, that your lordship would have the goodness 

to make my humble respects agreeable to the ladies of 

your lordship's family, and to let me have the satisfaction 

of owing this kindness to those only whom I most esteem, 

I have the honor to be, 

My Lord, 

Your Lordship's 
Most obliged humble servant, 

William Sampson. 



To 

The Right Honorable Henry Grattan. 

Hamburg, Valentine's Kamj), JVb. 161, 
February 18, 1806. 
My dear- Sir, 

I have by this courier the honor of 
writing to Mr. Geo. Ponsonby, to request his interest in 
procuring a speedy and favorable answer to an application 
of mine, which has been already referred to the Irish gov- 
ernment, requesting permission to conduct my family 
home, to establish them and settle my affairs, previous to 
my going to America. May I request that you will have 

Bll 



218 MEMOIRS OF 

the goodness to confer with him on this subject, and johs 
your efforts to his, that I may have a speedy answer, as 
my health has suffered much in this country, where I have 
heen delayed since the beginning of last summer. I have 
also written to my lord Moira on the same subject, by the 
preceding courier. I was in hopes of seeing your name 
officially announced as chancellor of the Irish exchequer. 
Were I to trust to the news-papers which I have seen this 
day, I should suppose that you had refused that place. I 
must still flatter myself with the expectation of being 
soon permitted to pay my compliments to you on your ac- 
ceptance of that or some other station, in which your tal- 
ents and upright intentions may be once more beneficial 
to your country. 

I am, my dear Sir, 

With the highest respect, 

Your faithful humble servant, 

William Sampson 



To 
The Right Honorable Geo. Ponsonby. 

Hamburg, Valentine 9 s Kamp, No. 161, 
February 18, 1806. 
Jfy dear Sir, 

In the beginning of last summer, I left 
Paris with my family, my design being to ask permission, 
when I should arrive at Hamburg, to accompany them 
to their native country, in order to settle my affairs, and 






WILLIAM SAMPSON. gl$ 

from thence go to America, where I shall in all proba- 
bility spend the remainder of my days. 

Jn the month of July I made an application, through 
Mr. Thornton, his majesty's minister resident here; and 
he having no answer, I wrote on the first of September, by 
the same channel to lord Hawkesbury. The only answer 
I had was through Mr. King to Mr. Thornton, that my 
request was to be referred to the Irish government. Not 
however hearing further, and following the advice of some 
Mends, I wrote in the latter end of December to lord 
Castlereagh, whose influence, I was told, was decisive. 
On the 24th of January, his lordship acknowledged my 
letter, declined interfering, but added, that he had taken 
an occasion of forwarding my letter to Mr. Long, the 
chief secretrry to the Irish government. 

Whilst I have the satisfaction to congratulate my coun- 
try on the accession to the confidence of those who, I am 
convinced, will make their power the instrument only of 
good, and to whom my actions and intentions being better 
known will be more fairly judged, I trust that those de- 
lays which have already put me to very cruel inconven- 
ience, will now cease, and that I shall have, before I 
leave my country for the last time, the pleasure of return- 
ing my thanks in person, and renewing the expressions of 
those sentiments with which I have never ceased to be. 
My dear Sir, 

Tour faithful and obedient servant, 

William Sampson. 

From the time these letters were written, until the latter 
end of March, I remained, without taking any step, in n 
state of suspense and anxiety. To go from that to Amc- 



&20 MElldlRS Ot 

rica, and leave my family in a strange country, under all 
the circumstances, was a painful step to take. Not to re- 
ceive even an answer from those whose friendship I 
thought due to me, was vexatious enough. My affairs were 
not arranged for an emigration for life; in short, my ene- 
mies had a very good opportunity of glutting their malice* 
for I was surrounded with their spies, of whom they 
have numbers every where, but more and more mis- 
chievous ones in Hamburg than in most places. 

A circumstance now occurs to me, which I shall impart, 
from the desire I have to lay my whole conduct and pro- 
ceedings open to your view. 

An election took place for members of parliament in the 
latter end of the summer of 1805. I was then at Altona, 
I do not exactly recollect the date, nor is it worth while 
to torment myfelf in searching for it. I have not time to 
bestow upon useless minutiae, or dijficies nugae. It was, 
however, some time before my fiiends came into power, 
that I wrote to a gentleman nearly connected with me, 
pointing out to him, that perhaps this occurrence might 
afford an opportunity of buying my liberty. You know, 
and every body knows* how elections are carried on in 
England, and still more in Ireland. How one buyer will 
bid above another, as at an auction, and as in the days of 
the Saturnalia, the slaves are set free, so here were the 
days of the Irish Saturnalia come round. I suggested in 
this letter, that in a competition of this kind, it might be 
possible to use the combined interests of my friends, as 
it was matter of perfect indifference in a political or con- 
scientious view, which of two courtiers should represent 
the people. 

An honest bargain might be struck; and I truly did 



WIlftlAM SAMPSON. 

think) that if Irish votes for members of an English par- 
liament could be sold to redeem an Irishman who had suf- 
fered for his country, it was the most legitimate of all 
parliamentary traffics. I assured him of my firm belief, that 
no person, who persecuted me, did it because he thought 
me a bad man; but seeing the favors heaped upon notori- 
ous miscreants, that my crime was probably no other than 
that of being too honest; and that the only finesse necessary, 
was to disguise that a little. I begged, therefore, of such 
friends as loved me, if they saw the thing as I did, to co- 
operate in my ransom, by giving their votes to the side 
that could stipulate for it. This letter was swindled from 
me in Hamburg, and never went to its destination, but is 
now, as 1 have good reason to think, in the hands of some 
of the state-secretaries. 

If this sentiment should appear extraordinary to you, 
still would that which many Irishmen hold, that in the 
present state of our disgrace (opposition being vain) the 
best choice would be that of the worst men, in order that 
there might be no delusion nor imposture, and that the 

whole system might be uniform and equal. For they say 

"Men put not new cloth into old gann«tits; 9f 

But to proceed — In the middle of my anxiety about the 
next thing I should do, an alarm came that quickened my 
steps. The Prussian troops were said to be marching by 
concert with Napoleon into the city. They had , some 
time before occupied the Hamburgese territory at Cuxha- 
ven. There was a general consternation, and it became 
urgent with me to decide what I should next do. I was a 
prisoner of war, but that, though serious enough, was not 
the worst; for here I could not expect the same conside- 
ration as in Paris, where I had good and powerful friends; 



222 MEMOIRS 0^ 

and where the higher authorities knew, that whatever my 
political opinions had been, I had known how to conduct 
myself with discretion and without offence. But to be 
again a prisoner, to be again obliged to go through a pain- 
fid course of interrogatories and vouchers, to be again sus- 
pected, to be perhaps obliged to quit from necessity that 
line of firm independence which I had hitherto preserved, 
was a tiling to be avoided. And particularly now, when 
in an inhospitable country, I might have something to fear 
from malignity, and nothing to expect from justice; for as 
I said before, no city was ever more infested than Ham- 
burg with the little instruments of corruption and intrigue, 
noxious to society, and sometimes ruinous to those who 
use them. Little indeed should I have regarded all this 
had it concerned myself alone; for I am now taught to 
despise my persecutors, and to bear any thing they can 
invent; but when I reflected, that for the faithful and inno- 
cent partner of my life and my misfortunes, there was no 
chance of any benefit in remaining here; but many of 
distress, and that for her it was now a matter of necessity 
to return with her children where she had friends and pro- 
tection, I was not, you may suppose, much at ease. 

I went, therefore, to Mr. Thornton, to know whether he 
had received any further instructions respecting me. He 
had not; but he seemed to take a humane concern in my 
hard situation. He offered to take so much upon himself 
as to give me a passport to England, and to write imme- 
diate]} to Mr. Fox and explain the grounds upon which he 
had done so. 

Now it appeared to me, that if the late ministers, whom 
I never considered as my friends, had taken my case into 
consideration, or submitted it to the Irish government; if 



WIIXIAM SAMPSON. 2$8 

they had seemed to require no more than some expressions 
of contrition, there could be no difficulty with the present, 
for the reasons I have already given. Particularly when 
at the head of that ministry appeared that exalted and 
benevolent man, in whose noble and generous heart the 
vile spirit of persecution never could find a place. I ac- 
cordingly accepted the passport, and made instant dis- 
positions for my departure. 

But a fresh difficulty arose. The English vessels were 
ordered down the river to he under the protection of a 
British man of war; and the packets were, it was supposed, 
stopped. I asked Mr. Thornton, if he could not add to 
the kindness he had shewn me that of procuring a passage 
onboard of some of the king's vessels, as I conceived that 
at all events his dispatches, and all those of the other min- 
isters on the continent, must be conveyed. He did not feel 
that he could promise me that; but there were several 
merchant-men below, and I determined to take my chance; 
and 'at all events, if it was not safe to land with my family 
at Cuxhaven, to claim hospitality on board a ship. I had 
given a commission to an agent to find some person to join 
in the expense of a ]ioy 9 and the first person he met with 
was Mr. Sparrow, one of the king's messengers, who had 
been at Petersburg and all over the north of Europe as a 
courier, and happened then to be on his return in great 
haste with dispatches from the English minister at Vienna. 
He knew very well upon hearing my name, who I was, and 
I advised him to ask Mr. Thornton whether he saw any 
impropriety in our travelling together. Mr. Thornton 
could see none, and we set out together. When wc came 
to Cuxhaven, no packet had arrived, though many were 
due; and the packet agent knew no more of (lie matter than 



234 MEMOIRS OV 

we did, and probably was thinking how he would have to 
provide for himself when a new order would come. Ap- 
plication had been made to the sloop of war to take 
charge of the messenger and his dispatches. The other 
passengers in the town were endeavoring each for his own 
passage, and I with no other vouchers than my passport 
as a French prisoner of war, and those of lord Castlereagh 
and the duke of Portland, was very likely to remain, 
with my wife and two poor infants, as a prize to his 
Prussian majesty, into whose service the Irish govern- 
ment had, some years before, transported so many of my 
miserable countrymen. These unfortunate men were, it 
is true, about that time released from their strange bond- 
age; but no one, I believe, can say what has since become 
of them. A king's cutter had just arrived, and was to 
return without coming to anchor. "We obtained leave to 
go on board, and set out immediately with Mr. Sparrow 
and some other gentlemen. 



WXIXIAM SAMPSON. Q$5 



LETTER XXXI* 

Embarkation — Danger — Journey to London — Lord Spencw 
— Once more Imprisoned — Mr. Sparrow — Governor Pig- 
ton. 

WE hired a little boat and embarked in her; but 
the weather was stormy and the sea ran very high with an 
in-blowing wind; and it was so cold, though in the month 
of April, that the spray of the sea froze upon us as it fell. 
We were close packed in this little boat. I could not 
move, for my legs were thrust among the baggage, and the 
children were lying shivering upon me, sick and vomit- 
ing. When we came along side of the cutter, the boatmen 
ran their mast foul of her yard, and but for the dexterity 
of the tars, that were in one moment upon the yard cutting 
away the rigging that held us, we should have been un- 
doubtedly upset. The cutter then came to anchor to favor 
us; but as our rigging was cut and our sail split, we had 
great difficulty to get on board in the rapid tide, and when 
we did it was to run fowl again. This latter accident was 
like to be worse than the former; for we hung by the top 
of our mast; so that had our boat taken a shear with the 
current, we must have been swept out of her or sunk. But 
the activity of these good tars once more saved us, and 
before we had time to say long prayers they plucked us all 
on board. For myself I might have escaped, being, as 
you remember, a first rate swimmer; but I question if any 

man would desire to save his life, and see all that were 
Ee 



226 MEMOIRS 01? 

dearest to his heart perish in his view. Never in my 
life, but in this moment, did I feel the full effect of terror. 
I once spent two days without meat or drink, or any port 
to steer for, in a wintry and stormy sea, alone in an open 
skiff; but I would rather pass a hundred such, than endure 
the sudden pang that now shot across my heart. This 
was, however, but a short grief; the officers were kind to 
us, and Mr. Sparrow gave up his bed and lay on the cabin 
floor. We did not weigh anchor until next morning, and 
on the following one we made the English land. Whilst 
we were running along the coast in very thick weather, 
we were hailed by an armed brig, French built, and in 
the sea phrase, suspicious. Our captain at first hove too; 
but as she came nearer and looked more and more suspi- 
cious, this hearty Caledonian laddy damn'd his eyes if he 
would stop for her, ordered matches to be lighted, shoved 
out his little six pounders, and swore he had known a less 
vessel than his beat a damn'd French ****** twice as big: 
so all was prepared for an engagement. The brig was 
ten times as powerful as we, and we had a fair prospect of 
being blown out of water; and my wife, my children and I, 
would have had a full share of the glory; but it proved to 
be a French built privateer, now turned into an English 
cruiser. 

Mr. Sparrow landed at Orford-West and proceeded to 
London; he promised, as soon as he arrived at the foreign 
office, to mention that I was on the way with Mr. Thorn- 
ton's passport, and that my intention was to present, my- 
self immediately on my arrival to Mr. Fox; and with many 
hearty entreaties engaged me to go and see him at his 
house, when I should arrive in London: We spent that 
day and part of the next at Harwich, and next morning 



WILLIAM SAMPSON. 2p? 

travelled along as cheerfully as we could, auguring good 
from our being unmolested at Harwich, and enjoying the 
pleasures of the country and the season. We slept one 
night on the road, and on the third night arrived at Sablo- 
niere's hotel in Lei'ster square. 

Towards the close of the evening, I w T alked with my 
son through a variety of streets, antl every one brought to 
mind some remembrance of the lively scenes of my younger 
days, different from my present strange situation: I did 
not want matter for reflection. 

"We had upon our arrival given our names at the hotel, 
and I had written to Mr. Fox that I was arrived and 
waited his commands. Still nobody seemed to miud us. 
But as this living on sufferance was not my object, I went 
the next morning to the foreign office, and was told that 
Mr. Fox was not then to be seen; but that I might return, 
and an hour was given me. I returned accordingly, cer- 
tain that if the matter depended upon him I should have no 
difficulty, but was told that Mr. Fox was gone to the 
queen's levy* 

I then went to Mr. Sparrow's, and begged of him to 
shew me the office of Lord Spencer in Whitehall. He 
conducted me there, and after waiting some time I was 
admitted. His lordship was standing with his back to 
the fire, and at his right hand stood the under secretary. 

He was then in mourning for his sister, the duchess of 
Devonshire. I had sometimes seen that charming woman 
in the height of her beauty, and remembering her lovely 
countenance, expected to have seen something of a resem- 
blance in her brother. But not in the least; I saw no 
beauty in him, but a very cross face. I had never bee:i 



Memoirs ot 

favored with so hear a view of his lordship before* and if 
I never should again, I shall not grieve. 

I had dressed myself in full black, and put buckles in 
my shoes, in order to do away the idea of a sansculotte, 
and I made my bow the best I could in the English fashion, 
rather stiff, to shew that I was not a Frenchman. But I 
had not time to raise myself erect again, until the first 
shot went off; and he asked me, in a stern voice, if I knew 
what penalties I had incurred by coming over to England? 
Now, sir, I found I had to do with the first lord of 
the admiralty in good sooth, and that I must stand by for 
an overhauling. And though I am a pretty steady hand, 
yet I could not hinder this shot to carry away my topping- 
lifts and lee-braces; so I was all in the wind. I knew" 
that let the lamb bleat or not* the wolf will eat him all the 
same. So I began a fair discourse, still holding out my 
olive-branch. 

I said, that if I was not afraid of any penalties, it was 
because I had committed no crimes. I rather flattered 
myself that the circumstances under which I came, entitled 
me to some partiality; and that quitting a position where, 
had I only declared myself an enemy, I might have met 
with favor, in order to throw myself into the hands of an 
administration in which I had put confidence, was to have 
taken too good a ground to have any cause of fear. That 
I had not come rashly; that I knew that the late adminis- 
tration had taken my case into consideration and had not 
yet given any decision; that therefore there was but one 
of two things, either to anticipate a fair and honorable de- 
cision, or to remain an enemy, or at best a prisoner of 
war, and be deprived of any benefit from a just decision 
when it should arrive: and lastly, that I had a passport 



WILLIAM SAMPS0X. QgQ 

bl the English minister, to whose authority alone I could 
look in a foreign country; and that not granted, but upon 
full knowledge of my case and of the exigency of the 
moment. That at all events, what I wanted was not a fa- 
vor very difficult to grant, namely* to conduct my family 
to a place of safety and repose, until I should go and seek 
out for a new home and a new country. His lordship an- 
swered, that Mr. Thornton had no light to grant me a 
passport; but admitted, "that the confusion they were in 
in Hamburg, might be some excuse for my coming over." 
He said, something sharply, that he knew all my conduct, 
and all I had spoken and Written, and that he could not 
dispense with the law. I must go back or go wherever I 
chose, but that he could not let me stay a moment longer 
there; and he did not care where I went. 

I began now to be satisfied, that nothing was to be 
gained, and I only thought of getting through a disagree- 
able business as well as 1 could and as speedily; and I 
observed, that as I found it was useless to say any more, it 
rested now with him. 

You talked of going to America, said his lordship. I 
answered that I had; particularly when I found so much 
difficulty in getting leave to go home, as to persuade me 
that I should have neither pleasure nor security in remain- 
ing there. And as there were few countries in Europe not 
now at war with England and, such as were not, uninhab- 
itable for me, I had no other choice. I might have some- 
times flattered myself that time and circumstances had 
altered the state of things in Ireland; but from what fell 
from his lordship I feared it Was not so. You shall go 
then, said he, to America; and I made no objection, other 



£30 M&MOZKS OF 

tlian to insist a little upon the hardship of being forced from 
my family so suddenly, unprepared. 

The under secretary then reminded him, that I should 
not he allowed to go without a messenger; and he said he 
could not let me have the liberty of going about, unless I 
had some one that would answer for me. I replied, that I 
had been now so long abroad, that I did not know who 
to call upon on the instant; that London had never been 
my residence since the time of my studies, which was many 
years ago; that I supposed it might be necessary to find 
a person at once a friend to me, and known to his lord- 
ship; that I doubted not, in a short time, were I at liberty, 
to be able to offer the very best sureties; but that if I was 
a prisoner of state, terror might hinder my friends from 
coming near me. I however mentioned, that his lordship's 
colleague in the ministry and in council, the earl of Moira, 
knew me; that Mr. Geo. Ponsonby (now lord Ponsonby) 
knew me, and that Mr. Grattan knew me. 

Lord Moira, says Ms lordship, is out of town; lord Pon- 
sonby is chancellor in Ireland. Will Mr. Grattan an- 
swer for you? The suggestions of the imagination are 
very prompt; and the manner in which lord Spencer ask- 
ed this question inclined me to believe, that he already 
knew what Mr. Grattan would do, but wished to hear 
what I would say. 

I said, without the least hesitation, that I could not 
answer for Mr. Grattan, nor for any man, after such a 
lapse of time, and surrounded as I was by the terrors of 
an angry government; that there was no obligation cer- 
tainly on Mr. Grattan to answer for me, and his opinions 
might be changed even without any fault of mine, for the 



WIXXIAM SAMPSON. 231 

-^absent are always in the wrong; but that if I was at liberty 
I should ask him. 

Lprd Spencer then said, he must commit me. I begged 
#f him, that whatever sentiments he might entertain to- 
wards me, he would consider the feelings of a wife, 
whose virtues and whose sufferings deserved respect; and 
that whatever was to take place might pass in a way least 
shocking to her. And feeling how soon another pang was 
to be added to those she had already suffered; how much 
her heart was set upon the hope of having me once more 
at home with her, and the cruel disappointment she was 
to suffer — I spoke these last words with emotion. In this 
his lordship however did not very graciously partake, but 
said in a peevish tone "that was all very fine," and then 
went behind his table to write my committal. I remem- 
ber -another of his answers was, that "he w&$ not going 
to argue law with me." 

The under secretary now observed to me, that I was 
irritating his lordship, and conducted me out towards the 
messenger's room. My fellow-traveller, Sparrow, was 
much dejected at seeing the course this affair had taken. 
I sent in a request, that I might be rather committed to 
his care than to any other of the messengers, as my wife, 
from her acquaintance with him, would be less alarmed. 
This was perhaps before intended, and I returned with him 
a prisoner to his house. He sent two of his daughters, in 
a very delicate manner, to invite Mrs. Sampson to pay 
her bill at the hotel, and to come and join me. She readily 
understood the hint, and we were now once more prison- 
companions, which had not happened for eight or nine 
years before. However, it might be said, that in that 
time our fortune was mended; for instead of that execrable 



252 MEMOIRS OF 

bridewell, where we were in the year 1798, we were now 
in a genteel, well-furnished apartment; and Mrs. Sparrow, 
like a good hostess, with a fine family of children, vying 
with each other which should do us the most kindness. 
If the French proverb, "II n'y a point de belles prisons, ni 
de laides amours" was not too strictly true, this might be 
called a pretty prison. 

Mr. Sparrow, in doing the honors of it, mentioned that 
his last guest had been governor Picton, who was then 
out on bail, and has continued to get free of all charges by 
means which I have not learned. 

Strange coincidence of circumstances; there is a moral 
in every thing. Here was a man who was convicted by an 
English jury, of the wanton torture of a young female, in a 
manner too shocking to be repeated, enjoying his liberty and 
his ease, and laughing at justice. A man who, if we can 
believe Col. Fullerton, was charged with nine and twenty 
deliberate murders; who had disgraced the English name, 
by first introducing the crime of torture into a Spanish 
colony, where torture had never been known. He was 
protected, if not indemnified, whilst I, whose crime was to 
have rebelled against torture, was shut up, doomed to per- 
petual exile, torn from my family, betrayed, surrounded 
With terror, and overwhelmed with obloquy! 

It was signified to me, that I must set off for Falmouth 
the following morning. I must bid perhaps an eternal 
adieu to those by whom my heart was chieflly linked, to a 
miserable world. I wanted time; I wanted preparation of 
every kind. I entreated just so much time as might serve 
to have an interview with one or two unsuspected friends. 
I asked merely to wait until my wife's brother, who was 
hastening over, might arrive, and receive her from my 



WILLIAM SAMPSON 1 . 233 

fcands. As he was also oijr agent, I had strong reasons 
of interest for desiring to see him, and I asked for nothing 
more; and then was ready to depart for ever. All this was 
refused; and so great was the hurry to send me out of 
London that, after spending five days on the road, I had 
near a fortnight to remain at Falmouth before the regular 
sailing of the packet I wrote about this time to Mr, Fox, 
as follows; 



To 
Xhe Right Honorable Charles James Fox, <$♦<*. $c 9 

Downing- Street, Jipril 21, 1806. 
Sir, 

As this is the last application with which I 
shall trouble government, I hope it will be received with 
indulgence. I scarcely can state the hardship I have 
suffered, without appearing to recriminate. At no time 
have I ever been tried, examined or questioned or, to ray 
knowledge ever specifically accused. I did, it is true, en- 
ter into an agreement to expatriate myself; but I solemnly 
assert, that my motive was not any personal apprehension, 
but the desire of restoring peace and saving bloodshed h\ 
my country. That agreement has been interpreted ainj 
executed too much in the spirit of the times when it was 
made. When in fulfilment of it I went to Portugal, I wag 
again put in prison, and against my will transported vio- 
lently into France. The minister then resident in Portu- 
gal knows this fact. It is not necessary to say, I have 
committed no faults. If I had, they have been secretly 
atoned for. But I have no other crimes to answer for, 
fhan tliose of a heart £00 warm, and feeling for the mis r or- 

Ff 



2 84 MEMOIRS OF 

tunes of others. And with respect to treason, no man's 
actions ever gave a stronger denial to that charge. Yet 
when conciliation is held out to all, I am excluded. My 
case is said to have been investigated, though it is im- 
possible to know it but from myself; and my forbearance 
to give it publicity, for which I should have credit, turns 
to my disadvantage. I had hoped that all justification of 
myself might have been rendered unnecessary by the indul- 
gence with which I should have been received, so that I 
might have deposited my wrongs upon the altar of con- 
ciliation. 

One felony I have committed, and one only. I have 
left an enemy's country, and with the passport of a British 
minister. Conscious of my own honor, and relying upon 
an administration on which the public relied for the repa- 
ration of many evils, I have thrown myself upon its justice. 
Of this crime I now stand charged. For this I am to com- 
mence a new exile, and to finish my days far from my na- 
tive country, from those to whom I am united, and to 
whom I have given existence, without the time to make 
one necessary preparation for such a separation. 

You, sir, whose mind is as the source of candor and 
true wisdom, will feel what is best in such a case. Length, 
or repetition is useless with you: I fear to have been al- 
ready too prolix. 

/ liaxe the honor to be, Sir, 
With the highest respect. 

Your faithful humble servant, 

Wixliam Samfsoit. 

• 

My wife, in the agony of her distress, wrote to him 
also, and to several others. She never had an answer, 



wiixiam samps ax, 235 

save from Mr. Fox, so great was the terror that hung 
round us; but that noble, generous man, sinking under 
the weight of heavy infirmities, and oppressed with affairs 
to which man's strength was not equal, found time to reply 
to the voice of an afflicted woman. He strongly interfered 
in my behalf. My cause was said, by the news-papers, to 
have occupied the deliberations of the privy-council. I 
have been told, from great authority, that he who stands 
next to royal majesty, did interpose. But the jteep-of-day- 
boys had seized upon the conscience of the king, and ban- 
ished mercy. 

I had sent a letter to Mr. Grattan, which was put into 
his hands in the house of commons. He never answered 
it; but I was willing to excuse this neglect. The terror of 
a peep-oj-day -boy -government, for it vras evidently One 
part Fox and three parts jwep-of-day-boy, might have im- 
posed upon him the necessity of apparent incivility and 
unkindness. But I shall say more of him, if time permits, 
before this narrative is closed, and shall then explain the 
meaning of a peep-of-day -gov ■eimment; a subject however 
that would deserve more time than I can give it. 

By the interference of various friends, my departure 
was delayed until the latter end of April, and I was per- 
mitted to see such friends as chose to come to see me, 
Mr. Sparrow having orders to take down their names and 
their abode. Every one made me generous offers of pe- 
cuniary service, and of any other I might require. I had 
some time before lost an amiable and beloved sister; her 
excellent husband, then inconsolable for her loss, came 
from Portsmouth to visit me. But the heavy affliction 
that hung over him, only served to add weight to my own 
cares. I was able, nevertheless, to keep that cheerfulness 






£36 MEMOIRS 0* 

of temper which is the reward of a conscience void of 
reproach, until the moment of bidding adieu, and that mo- 
ment never will be lost to my remembrance. 

Mr. Sparrow and his family withdrew, from delicacy, 
and left us to ourselves. We involuntarily grouped to- 
gether in a circle. My wife and I stood opposite each 
other; our two children, tears in their little eyes, filled 
the interval, and held a hand of each looking at one 
raid the other in sorrowful anxiety,; We bound each 
tfther by the tenderest engagements to cheerful resignation, 
and made it the mutual condition of our future love. But 
I saw in the eyes of this best of women, that she had little 
hopes Of seeing me again. And indeed, so infirm was 
my health, there was but little. Those who know the 
State in which I arrived at New- York, and the cruel sick- 
ness I have since endured, will readily believe me. 

I was sent down in a post-chaise with Mr. Sparrowj 
and in consideration of my health was allowed to repose 
every night. My expense was defrayed by the governs 
ment, and I had certainly nothing to complain of in respect 
to the treatment I received. I dined and spent one 
evening in a genteel private family, of the acquaintance 
of my guide, and arrived on the fifth day at Falmouth. 

The only thing that I can recollect worth notice on the 
road, was a drovS of miserable looking people, whom we 
met walking bare-footed along, and limping With sore- 
ness and fatigued There were men, women and children; 
both men and Women had children on their backs, and were 
leading others by the hand. I thought that perhaps they 
were minors, as we were then, if I recollect, in Cornwall* 
but they proved to be of that race which the unfeeling 
call the lazij Irish, who were travelling in search of la- 



bor and drudgery, in hopes, at the ehd of their hard cam- 
paign, to be able to carry home wherewithal to pay their 
tythes, their taxes ami their rent. 

We met some sailors also, who had been with a whaler 
to London, It was a ship that had been three years on a 
South Sea voyage. The hands were all impressed in 
sight of their native land, where they had hoped, perhaps, 
to pour their hard-earned wages into the lap of a joyful 
wife; might the) not, like me, have children, whose inno 
cent smiles were their delight? Had they not human feel- 
ings? And though their hands were hard with labor, their 
hearts might be more tender than those they were to serve. 
Where is human justice to be found? These unhappy men 
were not even suspected, and yet their punishment was 
worse than that of malefactors. 

I lived, as I said, near a fortnight in Falmouth, waiting 
for the packet. Lord Spencer, the easier to get rid of me* 
had sent me at the government expense; and I had received 
a letter, informing me from him, that my conveyance to 
America was to be defrayed. I therefore had made no 
provision. But finding that neither the packet agent nor 
the collector, Mi*. Pelcw, to whom I was consigned, had 
any orders, I thought it necessary to write on that head. 
And as I had come into England with views of peace, so I 
was determined to leave it. I made up my mind to see 
every thing in the fairest light, and to avoid every senti- 
ment of resentment that could at best serve to ruffle my 
Own mind and injure my health and happiness. I per- 
suaded myself that lord Spencer had not meant unkindly, 
and at all events I owed him the same gratitude that the 
crane owed to the fox, who had his head in his mouth and 
did not bite it off: I therefore mentioned to him, that al* 



«&J8 MEMOIRS OF 

though I could not conceive why the government should 
have thought it necessary to proceed so harshly, yet that 
I was sensible of the handsome manner in which I had 
been so far conveyed, and hoped it would continue to the 
aid of my voyage. I shall presently state, to you with 
candor, how far it did and how far it did not. 

I was so far indulged during my stay in Falmouth, as to 
be allowed to walk with my conductor through the fields, 
along the rocks, or wherever fancy led. And besides that, 
the inhabitants of this little town had a certain character of 
benevolence, that it is remarkable for the simple rustic 
beauty of its women, there was a circumstance which gave 
it still more interest in my imagination; for nearly twenty 
years ago, when full of the ardor of youth, I was proceed- 
ing on my first voyage to America, by invitation of my 
uncle, colonel Sampson, to inherit a pretty rich estate 
which he possessed in that county of North-Carolina, 
which still bears his name, and was put, by adverse 
winds, into this very port. During several weeks that I 
was detained, my delight had been to explore the wild 
beauties of the country. It was in one of my excursions 
through the same grounds that my imagination, com- 
paring the present with the past, seemed to have caught 
its former tone of youth, and I meditated a few Stanzas, 
which I committed with my pencil to writing, as opportu- 
nity served. I say the tone of youth, because such trifling 
belongs only of right to that season of life. And whatever 
little talent I might once have had for versifying, I have 
since my maturer years, considered the twisting of words 
as a frivolous pastime. But every thing was now legiti- 
mate that could amuse or dissipate. 



WIIXIAM SAMPSON. 9J9 



rfOPE AND THE EXILE 



A VISION. 



IN the far verge of Britain's isle, 

Captive, on a rocky steep, 
I laid me down, and mus'd the while, 

Gazing o'er the silent deep. 

Behind me lay that Iron land, 

Where tyrants hold their gloomy sway; 
Oppos'd was Gallia's glittering strand, 

Where despots smile, and slaves look gay. 

Westward stretch'd the wat'ry waste, 
That washes the Columbian shore; 

And there, an emerald enchas'd 

That isle I'm doom'd to see no more. 

Farewell, ye scenes of smiling youth, 
Where memory delights to rove; 

Farewell, ye friends, allied by truth, 
By worth, by honor, to my love. 

With winds of air, the ardent steed 
Darts from the goal — is lost to sight; 

More rapid is the arrow's speed, 
That can arrest the lapwing's flight. 



240 MEMOIRS 0? 

Swifter is sound to wound the ear* 
Yet where the angry bullet flies, 

Long e'er the slow report draws near, 
Fate's work is sped— the victim dies. 

But courser, arrow from the bow, 
The unseen ball, nor beam of light, 

Shot from the star of day, can go 
So quick as magic fancy's flight. 

The winds their hollow caverns rend, 
The swelling waters burst their bounds; 

And fire for freedom will contend 

Against the weight of earthly mounds. 

Yet all these elements combined 

To rack the globe, have no such force* 

As the free quality of mind, 

From corp'ral bondage to divorce, 

And I, in momentary trance, 

With fancy's raptur'd eye could see 

More in the compass of one glance, 

Than in whole years when I was free. 

For all at once, before mine eye, 
A fancy form there did appear; 

But whether issuing from the sky, 
The earth, or sea, it was not clear. 

With graceful step I saw her move; 

I felt her charms my heart beguile; 
Soft as the breathing lute of love 

Her voice; like the young mom her smile. 



WILLIAM SAMPSON. 24} 

-Twas not that smile of venom'd dart, 
Whose power above all soft controul, 

Still wounds most deep the tenderest heart, 
And kindles trouble in the soul. 

She was not love and beauty's queen, 

But sister like, so fair, so bright; 
Less lire might in her eyes be seen^ 

But nothing less of beamy light. 

Those Seraph eyes she fix'd on mine, 

As she would read them thro' and thro'; 

Yet was their aspect so benign, 

That I could dwell upon their view. 

Is hopeless love, she said, thy care, 

That here all silent and alone, 
Thou seem' st' to woo the vagrant air, 

And to th' unpitying waters moan? 

Or by the ruthless hand of fate, 

Some friend or kindred hast thou lost, 

Or been by destiny of late, 

In fortune, or in honor, cross'd? 

Those days, bright nymph! are past and gone 
When I with love's hot flame did burn; 

Long I have love's soft empire known, . 
But happy love, and kind return. 

And friends and kindred tho' I've lost, 
Whom my sad heart must ever mourn; 

Yet not for them, nor fortunes cross'd, 
Here am I silent and forlorn. 

Gg 



-£42 MEMOIRS OF 

Some foul ingratitude has then, 
The current of thy spirits mov'd; 

For nothing grieves the souls of "men 
Like hase return from those they lov'd. 

Or else some lingering disease, 
Within thy frame deep-rooted lies; 

A vulture on the heart that preys, 
Dire source of never ending sighs. 

Ingratitude at times, to own, 
Must be the fate of all that live; 

Yet friends of thrice tri'd faith I've known; 
The false I pity and forgive. 

And though the hand of mortal pain 
Bows me beneath its wasting grief; 

Ne'er yet in lamentations vain, 
Nor idle plaints, I sought relief. 

Then for some dark and hidden crime. 
Of which thy soul doth now relent; 

Thou hast been stricken in thy prime, 
And doom'd to sorrow and repent! 

Oh thou, than spring-time flowers more fair; 

More beauteous than the rosy morn; 
Whose breath embalms the circling air, 

Why waste that breathS in| words of scornl 

And were I stain'd with crimes so fell, 
As silent thought could not endure, 

What power, deep art, or magic spell, 
Hadst thou the sting of guilt to cure! 



WttXlAM SAMPSON. 2 43 

Mine is that power, that magic spell, 

To cheat the wretched of his pain; 
The guilty from the verge of hell, 

To raise to heaven and light again. 

Then hie thee to those men of blood, 

Whose crimes my innocence attest; 
Go, b:d them seek their country's good, 

And in that virtue yet be blest. 

Say, in the verge of Britain's isle, 

A captive on a rocky steep, 
Did lay him down, and muse the while, 

Gazing o'er the sullen deep. 

Who would not change one lonely hour 

Of melancholy rapture there, 
For all their ill-got wealth and power, 

Their abject thoughts, their guilty care. 

And now I know thee, nymph, full sure, 

For as when watery vapours rise 3 
Which heaven's pure azure did obscure, 

And dimm'd the beauties of the skies. 

So memory, which long had lain 

Envelop'd in oblivious cloud, 
Withdraws her misty veil again, 

HOPE'S new-born image to unshrond. 

It is even now the twentieth year, 

Since watching for a favoring gale, 
This cliff I sought— thou didst appear, 

And cheat me with a flattering tale, 



244 MEMOIRS OF 

Oh! 'twas a vision, fair and bright, 
A dream my youthful sense that stoie^ 

Thro* fields of glory, paths of light, 
And joys that thrill'd upon the souL 

Oh! 'twas a vision, wildly sweet, 

My brows with bays and myrtle crown'd; 

Gay flow'rets springing at my feet, 
And loves and graces dancing round. 

Oli! 'twas a sweet bewildering dream, 
To see chaste Phoebe's silvery light; 

Dance to the murmurs of the stream, 

That winds round Hemus'j shadowey height* 

But it was false, as thou art fair, 

And thou art false, as it was vain; 
Go, mimic form, light thing of air, 

Nor tempt me with thy smiles again. 

True on this sea-worn point of land, 

I often rest, and often here, 
To the poor sailor wave my wand, 

And bid him sing of gallant cheer. 

And when the swelling canvas flows^ 

And floats upon the wanton wind; 
Bid him, to foreign climes that goes, 

To trust in those he left behind. 

And, thankless man, hast thou forgot, 

How often in thy loneliest hours; 
Fair flowery wreaths for thee I've wrought, 

And wrap'd thee in elysian bowers. 
f A mountain of Thrace, sacred to Apollo and the Muses- 



WIIXIAM SAMPSON. 245 

When thje rude wave, and wint'ry blast 

Of mortal dangers made their sport, 
Have I not sat upon the mast, 

To waft thee to a friendly port? 

When deep, sequester'd and forlorn, 
And buried in the dungeon's gloom, 

Have I not taught thy soul to scorn 
Th' assassin's steel, the tyrant's doom? 

And when with sickness, worn and wan. 
Death's ugly terrors thou couldst brave, 

'Twas I, when earthly joys were gone, 
That shew'd thee life beyond the grave. 

Spirit of comfort! now I see 
Thou still art kind; and from this hour 

I swear for evermore to be 

The willing vassal of thy power! 

Say then but this; shall yon green isle, 

Which dearer is than life to me, 
Be ever bless'd with fortune's smile, 

Be ever happy, ever free? 

Those words I spake with downcast eyes, 

Fearing to hear what she might say, 
I rais'd them up, and to the skies 

The fairy phantom wing'd her way. 

Thus may you see how pliable and versatile is the human 
mind. How many sources of consolation the Creator has 
bestowed, were men but wise enough to seek them. And 
I can assure you, with truth, that often, during my long 



246 MEMOIRS Of 

exile, retiring within myself, in the gloom of solitude or in 
the silence of the night, I have passed some of the most 
delicious moments of my existence; so strong a shield 
against misfortune is an unsulled conscience. As at this 
t : nie there was nothing in the personal treatment I receiv- 
ed that had any tendency to sour me; so I encouraged 
every agreeable idea that presented itself. I had several 
instruments of music, and I had a port-folio, with some 
Isd lements for drawing; and in Falmouth I made a 
gx rait of my guardian in Crayon, with his greyhound 
(the badge of his office) which at the same time served as, 
an occupation for me, and a compliment in return for his 
civilities. He had it framed on his return, and hung up in 
his parlour. 

It has been said by the first of poets, "Seldom has the 
st ed'd gaoler been the friend of man." But here was one, 
however strict in the execution of his office, who had a 
tender heart. He once, with tears in his eyes, begged of 
me to accept from him a hundred pounds, which he laid 
down before me; and iii order to refuse, without wounding 
him, I was obliged to assure him that I was nearly as 
rich as himself; and reminded him, that in the mean time 
that the government was good enough to treat us both, 
and applied the words of the poet: 

. "He that doth the ravens feed, 

Doth cater for the sparrow and the dove" 

My wife continued to lodge with Mrs. Sparrow until her 
leaving London, long after I had sailed; so much reason 
had she to be contented with her entertainment. 

On the 12th of May, I was conducted on board the 
Windsor Castle packet, and set sail with a fair wind for 
the city of ISew-York, 



WKL1IAM SAMPSON. 247 

The society of a fellow-passenger, captain Davy, of the 
29th regiment, and the politeness of captain Sutton, of 
which I cannot say too much, rendered the former part 
of the voyage agreeable; but during the latter part the 
weather was bad, and my health began again to decline. 
During the few days we staid at Halifax, I was forbid- 
den to go on shore, which mortified my curiosity more 
than my pride, and I suppose was intended as a mortifica- 
tion; for the most narrow suspicion or contemptible jeal- 
ousy could scarcely imagine any mischief I coiild do, 
were I ever so inclined. 

On the 4th of July, a day ever memorable in the annals 
of America, I arrived in the waters of the Hudson, but I 
did not reach the city until most of its inhabitants had re- 
tired to rest. And now that my travels are at an end, 
that I am at length arrived in a land of peace and liberty, 
let us for awhile repose. 

I shall shortly take up my pen again, to give such an- 
swer as I can to that serious question, "the true causes of 
the wretchedness and troubles in Ireland; 99 but not with- 
out the disquieting apprehension, that those troubles and 
that wretchedness may be revived, even whilst my pen runs 
on. The view I shall take of tins mournful subject shall 
be rapid, for the time I have to bestow upon it is short. 
I shaft attempt nothing but the outlines and principal re- 
sults. If they should awake your soul to sympathy, and 
stimulate your curiosity to further enquiry, they will have 
answered a good end. If they can reclaim you or any 
good man from delusion, on a subject at this juncture infi- 
nitely important, and eminently connected with the welfare 
of the human race, I shall not have written in vain. If 
I should once prevail so far, I shall then earnestly recom- 



248 MEMOIRS OF 

mend to your perusal the work of Mr. Plowden, which, 
however undigested, and perhaps faulty in point of in- 
duction, is yet, considering the short time in which it was 
compiled, and the many disadvantages of writing such a 
history, a monument of everlasting honor to the abilities 
and integrity of its author. 



[LETTER XXXII. 

Causes of the Troubles in Ireland — Jl brief Review of Irish 
History, 

IN what manner to treat this subject; how to wade 
through oceans of iniquity and bloodshed; how to relate 
the long uninterrupted calamities of the most oppressed of 
nations; if there be any way of passing over this without 
sinking the mind into the gloom of tragedy, let us seek 
it; for my heart has already bled enough. Let us rather 
travel lightly over the vantage grounds of this history than 
descend into the dismal vale of death! 

Perhaps, if the feelings of generous indignation could 
be so far subdued, the most beneficial moral that could be 
extracted from the Anglo-Irish tyranny, would be its ab- 
surdity. There are men of ambition so depraved, who 
would rejoice to be called wicked, if with that they could 
appear what the corruptions of the world, and the servility 
of historians have denominated great. But these same 
men would never have courage to consummate their 
crimes, were they taught that these crimes would render 



WIXLIAM SAMPSON. £49 

them contemptible, and still more, ridiculous. Let us 
then, I pray you, take that view which may be most use- 
ful, and will be least dispiriting. Give me your hand; 
let us call this an historical ramble; let us avoid all te- 
dious method and detail; and if there be few flowers, let us 
cull the fruit. 



Irish Antiquity — An Historical Ramble. 

I often wonder why men set so much value upon 
ancestry. For as all moralists agree, that frand and vio^ 
lence prevail in this life over gentleness and virtue; so to 
^say that we had great ancestors, is too often the same as 
to say, that we tlescend from great knaves. However, if 
ft be a boast, the Irish, like other nations, have their ori- 
gin in the clouds. I respect the researches of antiqua- 
rians, because they open interesting prospects of human 
things, enlarge our narrow views, and are auxiliaries to 
philosophy and truth. But as to any view of civil polity, 
or any right one nation has to usurp upon another, because 
it is more ancient, they are absurd. Indeed the antiquity 
claimed by the Indians and other nations of the East, are 
good arguments to silence all who can make no preten- 
tions beyond the creation. Therefore, our business is to 
skip at once over the creation and the deluge, and begin 
where profit begins. 

One historian has made of Ireland, the Ogyges, the Ul- 
tima Thule,the. Island of Calypso, and more, which I have 
forgotten: I have only my frail memory to consult 

Hh 



250 MEMOIRS OF 



Of the origin of the Milesian Race, and the Irish 
Language. 

Before I enter upon this important office of 
tracing the descent of the Irish monarchs, I will, as the 
historian's titles may reflect upon his works, proffer my 
own more moddest claims of ancestry. 

It is some years since one of my uncles delivered to the 
dowager Lady Moira, a pedigree authenticated by the Her- 
ald's office, wherein our line was traced through Joseph 
of Aramathea. How much higher it went I do not remem- 
ber; but as that ancestor may stand well with Jew or Gen- 
tile, I am not too proud to abide by him, if you think it 
dignity sufficient to qualify me to be the herald of the 
Irish kings. 

For the same good reason that we skipped over the 
creation, and jumped across the deluge, we will, with 
your leave, pass by the Parthalonians, Nemedes, Belgians, 
Dannonians, Galenians and Davans, all Asiatic Scythians, 
as they say, who arrived at different times; when, I will not 
declare; nor indeed if I would, could I. 

Blessed be the time when the Bards got leave to sing 
their histories, and accompany them with their harps; the 
music helped the story; for as Figaro says, "what is not 
good enough to be said, will do very well to sing." If I 
could play this over with my fiddle, how easy would it be. 

But we that undertake to be historians now-a-days, 
must write in straight prose line, and keep our balance 
like rope-dancers; for if we make a false step, there are 
more to laugh at than to pity us. JWe must therefore steer 



WII&IAM SAMPSON. 251 

between Scylla and Charibdis. We must avoid on the 
one hand that gross and indolent ignorance which, too 
dull and too lazy to examine and compare, finds it shorter 
to deny and contradict. On the other hand, we must 
avoid that more amiable folly of enlightened credulity, 
which sins through the too passionate love of discovery 
and research. 

The following account of the Milesian race is pretty 
fully substantiated: Near one thousand years before 
Christ, three sons of Milesius, Heber, Eremon and Ith, 
came with a colony from Gallicia in Spain, into Ireland. 
And from thence were descended the great monarchs of 
Ireland. These Milesians were of Scythian origin, their 
ancestors having migrated to Phoenicia; the Phoenicians 
having, as every body knows, founded Carthage, and 
these Carthagenians having gone to the maritime coast of 
Spain, came from thence into Ireland. 

Colonel Valancy has proved this Carthagenian origin in 
a variety of ways. Two of them principally I can call to 
mind. First, the arms and armour dug up in Ireland, of 
which the form and composition are evidently Carthageni- 
an; and secondly, the language, which lie has shewn to be 
the same, and produced some lines of Carthagenian and 
Irish where there is not the variation of a syllable; and 
this opinion is sanctioned by Sir Laurence Parsons. 

Col.Valancy also shews, that the speech ofHanno, the Car- 
thagenian, in the play of Plauhts, entitled Fenuhis, is Irish. 
I have this day laid my hand by chance upon the second 
volume of Plautus Taubmanni; and in the first scene of the 
fifth act of that play, I find it asserted,! that Casaubomis\ 

fNotis. |Pa;norum autem idioma syriaco tractum docet 
Casaubonus ad suet. 



252 MEMOIRS Or 

affirmed to Suetonius, that the idiom of the Carthageniaus 
was derived from the Syriac. And in another note upon 
the words Fthalonim Walonith (gods and goddesses) they 
are said to be the same as Ethelijonim Vaholjonoth, 
Superos Superasque fDeos Deasque.J And Joseph. Scaliger, 
in his epistle to Stephan. Ubertas, says, "that f this Punic 
dialect of Plautus, is little different from pure Hebrew. 
And it is asserted on the same authorities, that ^ the lan- 
guage of the bible is falsely denominated Hebrew, being 
Syriac, and the opinion of WUhel. Postellus, agrees with 
that of Sealiger. 

Sir William Jones has discovered, that the Shanscrite 
is the same as the Persee, or ancient Persian; supposes 
all those oriental dialects to be of one language. The 
Scots, Scoti, Scutjti — Skuthoi, or Scythians, are a colony 
of these Milesians. That they are of the same origin 
there is no doubt, for the Scotch Highlanders can at this 
day converse with the Irish without any difficulty, and the 
dispute is not yet settled to which of them the poem of 
Ossian is due. This native Irish, which is the Gaedhlic 
or Scotic, is the purest dialect of the ancient Celtic. The 
Welsh is also a dialect of it. What its influence was upon 
the sentiments of the heart, is proved from this, that Ed- 
ward the First was obliged to destroy the Welch Bards, 
rowing them down their rocks in the sea, before he 
couM subdue their country. 

The barbarity of the English, the Danes and Normans, 
in destroying all the monuments of Scotch, Irish or Welsh 

tPlautinae Pxnoli dialectus parum abest a puritate Hebra- 
ismi. 

| Lingua quam Habraicam vocamus & qua utuntur sacra? 
sacra biblia falso eo nomine nobis appellator cum sit Ph»nicia. 



WILLIAM SAM r SOS". %$$ 

antiquity, has robbed the philosopher, if not the divine, of 
many a precious light. At all events, this wonderful affin- 
ity between Irish, Scythian, Scotch, Carthagenian, Welsh, 
Hebrew, Syriac, Persian, Shanscritc and other ancient 
dialects, is a strong and interesting proof of holy writ; as 
it goes to prove, that at one time there was a universal 
language. But the use I shall make of it is, to shew the 
ignorant and provoking insults which the English have 
heaped upon the Irish, not only in the times of their own 
barbarity; but since letters had made progress among 
them. When Queen Elizabeth founded Trinity College, 
she would have had an Irish professor, but lord Burleigh 
dissuaded her, saying, it was a barbarous language, #n$ 
repeated illiberally some phrase which nded was 

Irish; but which evidently was nonsense, and perhaps awk- 
ward enough in his mouth. You may remember it in 
Hume's history of England. The English of it, accord- 
ing to this historian, is, that "the white ox eat the black 

Now upon the same illiberal scheme, if any queen, for 
instance queen Dido, who spoke good Phoenician, wished 
to have an English professor, and one of her favorites was 
to pronounce to her even in the courtliest manner, 
"Length, breadth, wedth, strength, thickness, thankful- 
ness" and so forth, would it not shock the delicate ears of 
the queen, and damn the professor? Yet it would not be 
so unfair as to say that "the white ox eat the black egg\" 

When we consider that the Irish vernacular tongue was 
to be traced with little corruption to the highest antiquity, 
and identified with holy writ, there is something con- 
temptibly stupid in this manner of treating it, and more so 
when we consider that the language of the English, aj- 



&54 memoirs or 

though long spoken by one of the first and the most 
learned nations of Europe, to the polish of which Par- 
nell, Brook, the Sheridans, Burke, Goldsmith, Sterne, 
Swift, O'Leary, and a multitude of other Irishmen, have 
contributed so much, cannot yet be reduced to any rules of 
grammar, or spoken or written with any ordinary perspi- 
cuity. Look into an act of parliament where precision is 
necessary, or into a legal conveyance, and read the 
wheresoevers and whensoevers that abound; the he's, the 
she's, and the theifs; the any manner of person or persons, 
thing or things, and such paraphrases and amplifications, 
which never could be necessary in a language possessing 
either concord or inflexion; and the crude origin and con- 
struction of which, taste, learning or genius, has not been 
able to reform. Indeed, some of the very acts of parlia- 
ment, enacting penalties against those that spake Irish, or 
dwelt amongst the Irishrij, are such a queer compound of 
Danish, Norman, hog-latin, and I dont know what, as to 
be the most biting satires upon the Englishrij and those 
that spoke English. For we must acknowledge, that 
whatever our ancestors, the Irish, were in the time of 
Strongbow, our ancestors, the English, w T ere clumsy enough* 
You recollect it was about that time that the luxurious 
Thomas A. Becket was impeached for strewing his floors 
with green rushes and other such effeminacies; and it is 
an authentic fact, that as late as that, our ancestors, the 
English, sold their children and their pregnant wives, to 
our ancestors, the Irish, for slaves. The market was 
held where now stands the great city of Liverpool. Some 
traces of wive-selling still exist in England. 



WIIXIAM SAMPSON. 255 



Ancient Civilization of the Irish. 

The proofs of ancient civilization in Ireland are many, 
and that it was resorted to as a sanctuary of letters and 
learning, when other nations, now the most advanced, were 
semi-barbarous. Its remote situation might have favored 
it in this respect, by protecting it from the inroads of pi- 
rates and invaders. At the council of Constance, the 
English ambassadors were only admitted in right of Ire- 
land, as a nation of higher and more ancient rank; for 
England had been conquered, they said, by the Romans, 
and was part of the empire. King Alfred, according to 
Venerable Bede, was educated in Ireland; and the Angle - 
Saxon, king Oswald, applied to Ireland for learned men to 
teach his people Christianity. Henrick, of St. Germain, 
in the reign of Charles the bald, says of the Irish, "Al- 
most the whole nation, despising the dangers of the sea, 
resort to our coasts with a numerous train of philosophers." 
And in a tapestry at Versailles, representing Charle- 
magne, amongst the kings in friendship with him, there- 
was a king of Ireland with his harp. There is a harp in 
Trinity College, Dublin, said to be as old as Brian Boi- 
rume, who fell in the battle of Clontarf, anno. 1014. This 
harp and their ancient music are very curious and indis- 
putable proofs, as no instrument known to the ancient 
nations had the same number of strings; nor was the 
counterpoint or harmony known to them, nor is there any 
vestige of it until of very late date, in Italy or Germany, 
the modern schools of music. 

Gerald Barry, called Geroldas Cambrensis, employed hf 
Henry II. to vilify the Irish, could not resist the charms 



MEMOIRS OF 

of their music, and eadeavors to describe the effect of a 
treble and base in a way that proves it was new to him, 
and speaks in admiration of the manner in which the sub- 
ject in their music was sometimes transferred to the lower 
strings, and then, after many delightful modulations, arose 
out of its sweet confusion, and became distinct above. 
I have not the book, otherwise I could cite the passage. 
King James also is said to have boasted his Irish origin; 
and king James had the pride of ancestry. 

The great epoch of Irish civilization appears to be the 
reign of Ollam Fodlha, according to Keating, about 950 
years before the Christian rera. It was he who instituted 
the great council of Fes of Teamor or Tarah, consisting 
of Druids and other learned men, representatives of the 
nation. He is said to have been a great prince and law- 
giver; and in the magnificent accounts of that assembly 
are the first traces of Irish history. 

But the fairest proof is, the easy reception the gospel 
met with in the fifth century, when St. Patrick, a Skuthos 
or ScGt, sent by Pope Celestin to preach Christianity. So 
much did that mild religion coincide with the sentiments 
of the Irish that, what never happened in any other coun- 
try, it was enforced by persuasion alone, and without the 
shedding of one drop of blood. And five years after St. 
Patrick opened his mission, so hospitably was he received, 
that he was summoned to the grand council at Tarah, as 
we should say in modern phrase, made a member of par- 
liament, and put upon a committee of nine, to reform the 
civil history, and make it useful to posterity. 

There are abundant other proofs, but they are too long. 
I am sorry, however, to say, that whatever their ancient 
civilization might be, there are too good proofs of their 



WIl^IAM SAMPSON. 25? 

degeneracy at the time of which we are now about to 
treat. For it appears that the people were in a servile 
state, and that they had one principal king, four or five 
inferior ones, and in all sixty, who had sovereign authori- 
ty. When we think of their long torment under one king, 
sixty seems an intolerable number! 



Character of the Irish, from English Historians. 

It is a hard law upon every Irishman who would treat 
of his own country affairs, that in order to gain belief, lie 
must say oniy what an Englishman has said before him: 
That is, he must speak with the tongue of the enemy, 
A simple author, speaking of one of the rebellions, uses 
this pathetic observation: "Every Englishman who fell, 
died with twenty tongues in his mouth. But when the 
Irishman fell, he never spake more." 

This way of writing, like Lazarus begging the crumbs 
that fell from the rich man's table, is not to my mind; yet 
I shall adopt it rather than expose myself to be set down 
for an enthusiast. Cambden, in his Britannia, p. 680, says 
of the Irish,f that "they are courageous, ingenious, re- 

f "Bellicosi sunt, ingeniosi, corporum lineamentis con* 
spicui, mirifica carnis mollitie, et propter musculorum teneri* 
tudinem agilitate incredibili." And (fl. 789) "In universum 
gens hxc corpore valida et imprimis agilis, ammo forti et e!a- 
to, ingenio acri, bellicosa, vita; prodiga, laboris frigoris et in- 
edise patiens, veneri indulgens, hospitibus perbenigna, amore 
constans, inimicitiis implacabilis, credulitate ievis, gloria; avi» 
da, contumelise et injuria; impatiens, et ut inquit ille olim, 
in omnes actus vehementissima." 

ii 



£56 MExVIOIRS OF 

markable for the beauty of their persons, of wonderfully 
fine complexion and, owing to the flexibility of their mus- 
cles, of great agility/ 5 And in p. 789: "These people art 
all endowed with vigor of body, strong and lofty minds, and 
acute genius. They are warlike, dauntless, patient of fa- 
tigue, cold and hunger, amorous, benevolently hospitable, 
constant in love, implacable in hatred, unsuspecting, pas- 
sionate for glory, and ardent in all their pursuits." 

Finglass, chief-baron of the exchequer, in the time of 
Henry VIII, says, "That the English statutes, passed in 
Ireland, are not observed eight days after passing them; 
whereas those laws and statutes made by the Irish on their 
hills, they keep firm and stable without breaking them for 
any favor or reward." 

Sir John Davies who, as Mr. Plowden observes, had 
Still better opportunity of knowing the Irish, being the 
first justice that ventured on circuits out of the English 
pale, says, "That there is no nation under the sun that 
love equal and indifferent justice better than the Irish; or 
will rest better satisfied with the execution thereof, when 
upon a just cause they do desire it, although it be against 
themselves." Now, this from an English enemy, for so 
he was at the end of a bloody war of fifteen years, is pret- 
ty strong testimony. Yet this same author, who had been 
attorney-general in Ireland, in Jameses reign, says, that 
the multitude were "brayed as it were in a mortar." And 
it was he who went so far as to recommend "f/ie maistering 
the Irish by the sword, and breaking them bij warre, in or- 
der to make them capable of obedience and good seede." Now, 
what could be the use of braijing the midtitude in a mortar, 
maistering them by the sword, or breaking them by warre, 
if they were so contented with equal and indifferent justice, 



WIIXIAM SAMPStLY. $0, 

even when it was against themselves? Would they not have 

been as capable of good seede, if they had not been brayed 

in the mortar, but favored with indifferent justice against 

themselves? But then they would have been content! And 

it shall be my business to shew you, that that never was 

the wish of the English, or of the Anglo-Irish. And 

since we are upon the subject of this attorney-general, it 

may be as well to quote him now to this purpose, though 

we shall have occasion presently to refer to him again for 

another. In his discoverij of the true causes why Ireland 

was never entirely subdued 9 part 1st. he says "During the 

time of my service in Ireland (which began in the first year 

of his majesty's raigne) I have visited all the provinces of 

that kingdome, in sundry journies and circuits; wherein I 

have observed the good temperature of the atjre; the fmit- 

fulness of the soyle; the pleasant and commodious seats for 

habitation; the safe and large ports and havens, lying open 

for trafficke into all west parts of the world; the long inlets 

of many navigable rivers; and so many great lakes and 

fresh ponds within the lands, as the like are not to be 

seene in any part of Europe; the rich fishings, and wilde 

fowle of all kinds; and lastly, the bodies and minds of the 

people, endued with extraordinary abilities of nature." 

Now, in this fruitfulness of the soil, these fishing and 
hunting grounds, and "these commodious seats for habita- 
tions, 99 lay the whole mystery, why "the multitude were 
brayed in the mortar," maistered by the sword, and 
broken by warre, and deprived of every benefit of justice* 
save her sword; for of that attribute, justice has not been 
niggardly towards them. Now, my friend, keep these 
Commodious seats for habitations 99 in your eye, and you 



260 MEMOIRS Of 

will have the master-key of the history, and understand 
the whole. 

I shall just subjoin the testimony of the learned Sir 
Edward Cooke, 4 Inst. 349. 

"For," says he, "I have been informed, by many of 
them that have had judicial places there, and partly of 
mine own knowledge, that there is no nation of the Chris- 
tian world that are greater lovers of justice than they are, 
which virtue must of necessity be accompanied with many 
others." 

So much for the country and character of the Irish- 
Such a country, and such a people, ought to constitute an 
earthly Paradise. Yet has it been, for six or seven centu- 
ries, the pre-eminent abode of misery. Before we enter 
upon the unfortunate epoch of English invasion, and all 
the curses entailed by our English ancestors upon our Irish 
ancesters, let us make ourselves a little acquainted with 
our English ancestors; it will not be tedious. There is 
little in any author concerning them before Csesar, who, 
in his history de Bello Gallico, describes them thus: After 
excepting the men of Kent, whom he states to be more 
civilized, he continues: fThose of the interior sow no 
corn, but live on milk and flesh, and cover themselves with 
skins, and dye themselves with woad, which gives them a 



t Interos plerique frumenta non serunt, sed lacte & carne 
vivunt: pellibusque sunt vestiti. Omnes vero se Bntanni vi- 
tro inficiunt, quod cseruleum efficit colorem; atque hoc horri- 
b'liore sunt in pugna adspectu: capilloque sunt promisso; 
atque omni parte corporis rasa, prseter caput & labrum supe- 
rius Uxores habent deni duodenique inter se communes; & 
roaxime fratres cum fratribus, & parentes cum liberis: sed si 
qui sunt ex his nati, eorum habentur Hberij a quibus plurimum 
virgines quaeque duct* sunt. 



WILLIAM SAMPSON. 261 

sky-blue colour; ("ceruleum colorem"J and makes them 
more horrible in battle. They wear their hair about their 
ears, and shave all but the head and Vac upper lip. Ten or 
twelve of them take their wives in common, and generally 
brothers go with brothers, and children with their parents; 
and those who have had most to do with the virgins, are 
reputed the fathers of the children! 

Now what do you say to our sky-blue ancestors? Were 
they painted j w war, or not? 

And may not this be the reason that their descendants, 
notwithstanding their mixture with Danes, Saxons and 
Normans, have never got rid of this blue tinge, and are 
still said to be the nation of the Blue Devils? 

Horace represents them as a nation of aliens or foreign- 
ers in the universe, and calls them "Penitus toto disjunctos 
orbe Britannos" If this was not true, in fact, when 
Horace wrote it, it was a true prophecy; for though they 
have pretended that the Irish patriots would be received in 
no country, it is they themselves who are now in that pre- 
dicament. There is scarcely a nation with whom they 
are not in hostility; not even their Antipodes, the Chinese. 
But it is time, having brought both parties into court, to 
give them a day, and make a short adjournment of the 
cause. 



£t>£ MEMOIRS OX? 



XETTER XXXIIK 



Historical Ramble continued — First Visit of our English 
Ancestors to our Irish Ancestors — Beginning of the DIS- 
PUTE. 

THE first visit or visitation of our English an- 
cestors to our Irish ancestors, came about in this manner: 
G'Tiourke, king of Breffiny, went upon a pilgrimage; bet- 
ter he had staid at home; for Dermod M'Murrogh, king of 
Leinster (Oh these kings!) carried off his wife in his ab- 
sence; and this was about the year' 1166, as near as I can 
learn, Roderick O'Couner was master-king of all Ire- 
land, and the poor pilgrim applied to Roderick for his pro- 
tection. The adulterer went with his story to king Henry 
the second; and the Plantagenet king who was then in 
Aquatine, in France, (God knows what his own wife was 
about then) took the part of the adulterer against the pil- 
grim, and applied to the pope. And the pope (Adrian) 
who was an Englishman, took the part of the English 
king and the adulterer, against the Irish king and the 
pilgrim, and so the dispute began. The English pope A- 
drian gave a Bull to the English king Henry, worse than 
any Irish Bull, and granted him "all Ireland," be the same 
more or less 9 in consideration of natural love and affection, 
the pilgrim and the pilgrim's wife to the contrary in any 
wise notwithstanding. And he ordered the Irish to re- 
ceive this English king honorably, and reverence him as 
their lord. With this monstrous bull, and five hundred 



WILLIAM SAMPSON*. £63 

men besides, he came and formed, with little opposition, a 
settlement which they called the English pale, having tirst 
cantoned out the whole island to ten men, and so began 
that dispute, 

"Never ending, still beginning, 
"Fighting still, and still destroying." 

Which has since deluged this unfortunate country in 
blood, with little intermission, for near seven hundred 
years. 

How the Irish reverenced the English king, and what 
cause they had, appears from a remonstrance to Pope John 
XXII. in the reign of Edward II. as follows: 

Extracts from the Irish Remonstrance, 
to Pope John XXIL 
« It is extremely painful to us, that the viperous de- 
tractions of slanderous Englishmen, and their iniquitous 
suggestions against the defenders of our rights, should ex- 
asperate your holiness against the Irish nation. But alas, 
you know us only by the misrepresentation of our enemies, 
and you are exposed to the danger of adopting the infa-. 
mous falsehoods which they propagate, without hearing 
any thing of the detestible cruelties they have committed, 
against our ancestors, and continue to commit even to this 
day against ourselves. Heaven forbid, that your holiness 
should be thus misguided; and it is to protect our unfortu- 
nate people from such a calamity, tha^t we have resolved 
here to give you a faithful account of the present state of 
our kingdom; if indeed a kingdom we can call the melan- 
choly remains of a nation, that so long groans under the 
tyranny of the kings of England and of their barons, some 
. of whom, though born among us, continue to practice the 



264 MEMOIRS Of 

same rapine and cruelties against us, which their ances- 
tors did against ours heretofore. We shall speak nothing 
but the truth, and we hope that your holiness will not delay 
to inflict condign punishment on the authors and abettors 
o,f such inhuman calamities. 

"Know then, that our forefathers came from Spain, and 
our chief apostle, St. Patrick, sent by your predecessor, 
Pope Celestin, in tine year of our Lord 435, did, by the in- 
spiration of the Holy Ghost, most effectually teach us the 
truth of the Holy Roman Catholic faith, that was preach- 
ed to them, have, in number sixty-one, without any mix* 
ture of foreign blood, reigned in Ireland to the year 1170. 
And those kings were not Englishmen, nor of any other 
nation but our own, who with pious liberality bestowed am- 
ple endowments in lands, and many immunities on the 
Irish church, though in modern times our churches are 
most barbarously plundered by the English, by whom they 
are almost despoiled. And though those our kings, so 
long and so strenuously defended, against the tyrants and 
kings of different regions, the inheritance given by God, 
preserving their innate liberty at all times inviolate; yet 
Adrian IV, your predecessor, an Englishman, more even 
by affection and prejudice than by birth, blinded by that 
affection and the false suggestions of Henry II. king of 
England, under whom, and perhaps by whom, St. Thomas 
of Canterbury was murdered, gave the dominion of this 
our kingdom, by a certain form of words, to that same 
Henry II. whom he ought rather to have stript of his own 
on account of the above crime. 

"Thus, omitting all legal and judicial order, and alas! 
his national prejudices and predilections blindfolding the 
discernment of the pontiff, without our being guilty of any 



WJXMAM SAMP905T. 265 

crime, without any rational cause whatsoever, he gave us 
up to be mangled to pieces by the teeth of the most cruel 
and voracious of all monsters. And if sometimes nearly 
flayed alive, we escape from the deadly bite of these 
treacherous and greedy wolves, it is but to descend into 
the miserable abyses of slavery, and to drag on the doleful 
remains of a life more terrible than death itself. Ever 
since those English appeared first upon our coasts in vir- 
tue of the above surreptitious donation, they entered our 
territories under a certain specious pretext of piety and 
external hypocritical shew of religion; endeavoring in the 
mean time, by every artifice malice could suggest, to ex- 
tirpate us root and branch, and without any other right 
than that of the strongest, they have so far succeeded 
by base and fraudulent cunning, that they have forced us 
to quit our fair and ample habitations and p aternal inher- 
itances, and to take refuge, like wild beasts, in the moun- 
tains, the woods and the morasses of the country; nor cai- 
even the caverns and dens protect us against their insa- 
tiable avarice. They pursue us into these frightful abodes, 
endeavoring to dispossess us of the wild uncultivated rocks, 
and arrogating to themselves the property of every place 
on which we can stamp the figure of our feet; and through 
an excess of the most profound ignorance, impudence, 
arrogance, or blind insanity scarcely conceivable, they 
dare to assert, that not a single part of Ireland is ours, but 
by right entirely their own. 

"Hence the implacable animosities and exterminating 
carnage, which are perpetually carried on between us; 
hence our continual hostilities, our detestable treacheries, 
our bloody reprisals, our numberless massacres, in which 
since their invasion to this day, more than 50,000 men 

Kk 



£66" MEMOIRS 0* 

have perished on both sides; not to speak of those who died 
by famine, despair, the rigors of captivity, nightly maraud- 
ing, and a thousand other disorders, which it is impossible 
to remedy, on account of the anarchy in which we live; an 
anarchy which, alas! is tremendous not only to the state, 
but also to the church of Ireland, the ministers of which 
are daily exposed, not only to the loss of the frail and 
transitory things of this world, but also to the loss of those 
solid and substantial blessings, which are eternal and im- 
mutable. 

"Let those few particulars concerning our origin, and 
tlje deplorable state to which wc have been reduced by the 
above donation of Adrian IV. suffice for the present. 

""Wc have now to inform your holiness, that Henry ,-king 
of England, and the four kings his successors, have violated 
the conditions of the pontifical bull, by which they were 
Impowered to invade this kingdom; for the said Henry 
promised, as appears by the said bull, to extend the patri- 
mony of the Irish church, and to pay to the apostolical see, 
annually, one penny for each house; now in this promise, 
both he and his successors above-mentioned, and their ini- 
quitous ministers, observed not at all with regard to Ire- 
land. On the contrary, they have entirely and intention- 
ally eluded tliem, and endeavored to force the reverse. 

"As to the church lands, so far from extending them, 
they have confined them, retrenched them, and invaded 
them on all sides, insomuch that some cathedral churches 
have been by open force, notoriously plundered of half 
their possessions; nor have the persons of our clergy been 
more respected; for in every part of the country we find 
bishops and prelates cited, arrested and imprisoned, with- 
out distinction, and they are oppressed with such servile 



WIIXIAM SAMPSON. <X>? 

iear by those frequent and unparalleled injuries, that they 
have not even the courage to represent to your holiness the 
sufferings they are so wantonly condemned to undergo. 
But since they are so cowardly and so basely silent in 
their own cause, they deserve not that we should say a syl- 
lable in their favor. The English promised also to intro- 
duce a better code of laws, and enforce better morals 
among the Irish people; but instead of this, they have so 
corrupted our morals, that the holy and dove-like simplici- 
ty of our nation is, on account of the flagitious example 
of those reprobates, changed into the malicious cunning of 
the serpent. 

"We had a written code of lavtf s, according to which our 
nation was governed hitherto; they have deprived us of 
those laws and of every law except one, which it is impos- 
sible to wrest from us; and for the purpose of exterminat- 
ing us, they have established other iniquitous laws, by 
which injustice and inhumanity are combined for our de- 
struction; some of which we here insert for your inspec- 
tion, as being so many fundamental rules of English juris- 
prudence established in this kingdom. 

"Every man, not an Irishman, can, on any charge, 
however frivolous, prosecute an Irishman; but no Irish- 
man, whether lay or ecclesiastic (the prelates alone ex- 
cepted) can prosecute for any offence whatsoever, because 
he is an Irishman. If any Englishman should, as they 
often do, treacherously and perfidiously murder an Irish- 
man, be he ever so noble or so innocent., whether lay or 
ecclesiastic, secular or regular, even though he should be 
a prelate, no satisfaction can be obtained from an English 
court of justice; on the contrary, the more worthy the 
murdered jnan was, and the more respected by his own 



208 MEMOIRS OP 

countrymen, the more the murderer is rewarded and hon- 
ored, not only hy the English rabble, but even by the 
English clergy and bishops, and especially by those whose 
duty it is chiefly, on account of their station in life, to cor- 
rect such abominable malefactors. Every Irish woman? 
whether noble or ignoble, who marries an Englishman, is 
after her husband's death deprived of the third of her hus- 
band's lands and possessions, on account of her being an 
Irish woman. In like manner, whenever the English can 
violently oppress to death an Irishman, they will by no 
means permit him to make a will or any disposal whatso- 
ever of his affairs; on the contrary, they seize violently 
on all his property, deprive the church of its rights, and 
by force reduce *to a servile condition that blood, which 
lias been from all antiquity free. 

"The same tribunal of the English, by advice of the 
king of England, and some English bishops, among whom 
the ignorant and ill-conducted archbishop of Armagh was 
president, has made in the city of St. Kenniers (Kilkenny) 
the following absurd and informal statute; that no religi- 
ous community in the English pale, shall receive an Irish-, 
man as novice, under pain of being treated as contumacious 
contemners of the king of England's laws. And as well 
before as after this law was enacted, it was scrupulously 
observed by the English Dominicans, Franciscans, 
Monks, Canons, and all other religious orders of the Eng- 
lish nation, who shewed a partiality in the choice of their 
religious subjects; the more odious, inasmuch as those 
monasteries were founded by Irishmen, from which Irish- 
men are so basely excluded by Englishmen in modern 
times. Besides, where they ought to have established vir- 
tue, they have done exactly the contrary; they have exter- 



WlIXIAM SAMPSON, £69 

minated our native virtues, and established the most abom- 
inable vices in their stead. 

"For the English, who inhabit our island and call them- 
selves a middle nation (between English and Irish) are so 
different in their morals from the English of England and 
of all other nations, that they can with the greatest pro- 
priety be stiled a nation not of middling, but of extreme 
pertidiousness; for it is of old 5 that they follow the abomi- 
nable and nefarious custom, which is acquiring more in- 
veteracy every day from habit, namely, when they invite a 
nobleman of our nation to dine with them, they, either in 
the midst of the entertainment, or in the unguarded hour 
of sleep, spill the blood of our unsuspecting countrymen, 
terminate their detestable feast with murder, and sell the 
heads of their guests to the enemy. Just as Peter Brumi- 
chehasne, who is since called the treacherous baron, did 
with Mauritius de S — — his fellow-sponsor, and the said 
Mauritius'sbroiier, Calnacus, men much esteemed for their 
talents and their honor among us; he invited them to an en- 
tertainment on a feast day of the Holy Trinity; on that 
day, the instant they stood up from the table, he cruelly 
massacred them, with twenty -four of their followers, and 
sold their heads at a dear price to their enemies; and when 
he was arraigned before the king of England, the present 
king's father, no justice could be obtained against such a 
nefarious and treacherous offender. In like manner lord 
Thomas Clare, the duke of Gloucester's brother, invited 
to his house the most illustrious Brien Roe O'Brien of Tho- 
mond, his sponsor. 

'•All hope of peace between us is therefore completely 
destroyed; for such is their pride, such their excessive 
Inst of dominion, and such our ardent ambition to shake 



270 MEMOIRS OF 

off this insupportable yoke, and recover the inheritance, 
which they have so unjustly usurped; that, as there never 
was, so there never will be, any sincere coalition between 
them and us; nor is it possible there should in this life, for 
we entertain a certain natural enmity against each other, 
flowing from mutual malignity descending by inheritance 
from father to son, and spreading from generation to gen- 
eration. 

Let no person wonder then, if we endeavour to preserve 
our lives and defend our liberties, as well as we can, 
against those cruel tyrants, usurpers of our just properties 
and murderers of our persons; so far from thinking it un- 
lawful, we hold it to be a meritorious act, nor can we be 
accused of perjury or rebellion, since neither our fathers 
or we did at any time bind ourselves by any oath of allegi- 
ance to their fathers or to them, and therefore without the 
least remorse of conscience, while breath remains we will 
attack them in defence of our just rights, and never lay 
down our arms until we force them to desist. Besides, we 
are fully satisfied to prove in a judicial manner, before 
twelve or more bishops, the facts which we have stated, 
and the grievances which we have complained of. Not 
like the English, who in time of prosperity, contemn all 
legal ordinances, and if they enjoyed prosperity at pre- 
sent, would not recur to Rome, as they do now, but would 
crush, with their overbearing and tyrannical haughtiness, 
all the surrounding nations, despising every law, human 
and divine. 

"Therefore, on account of all those injuries and a 
thousand others, which human wit cannot easily compre- 
hend, and on account of the kings of England and their 
wicked ministers who, instead of governing us, as they are 



WIIXIAM SAUUPSOtf. £71 

bound to &>> with justice and moderation, have wickedly 
endeavored to exterminate us from off the face of the earth, 
and to shake off entirely their detestable yoke and recover 
our native liberties, which we lost by their means, we arc 
forced to carry on an exterminating war, chusing in de- 
fence of our lives and liberties, rather to rise like men and 
expose our persons bravely to all the dangers of war, than 
any longer to bear like women their atrocious and detesta- 
ble injuries; and in order to obtain our interest the more 
speedily and consistently, we invite the gallant Edward 
Bruce, to whom, being descended from our most noble an- 
cestors, we transfer, as we justly may, our own right of 
royal dominion, unanimously declaring him our king by 
common consent w T ho in our opinion, and in the opinion of 
most men, is as just, prudent and pious, as he is powerful 
and courageous; who will do justice to all classes of people, 
and restore to the church those properties of which it has 
been so damnably and inhumanly despoiled, &c." 

Now would one not think that this was a picture of our 
own unhappy times? The same insults, injuries and op 
pressions? The same spirit of just resentment? At least* 
at this time it was not Popery, for the Irish were remon- 
strating against a Papal abuse. There were no reform 
speeches of Mr. Pitt, no rebel Washington, no levelling 
Tom Paine, no Mirabeau, no French principles, no duke 
of Richmond for universal suffrage, no parliamentary op- 
position, no Catholic convention, no Defenders, no United 
Irishmen, no Tone, no O'Connor, no Emmet, no M'Nevin. 
But there were peep-of-datj-boys, torturers, plunderers, 
corrupters, invaders, traitors! And like cause, like effect 
There was fruitful soil, fish and wild fotvk* and commo- 
dious seats for habitations! 



MEMOIRS OF 



I now pass over a mass of atrocious records, and in 
order to gain some belief for crimes almost incredible, I 
will call once more to my aid tbe English attorney-gene- 
ral. Those who will not believe me, an Irishman, will 
pcrh aps respect an English attorney-general. 

"Hence it is,* says sir John Davies, than wbose there 
cannot he better authority upon this point, "that in all th( 
parliament rolls which are extant from the 40th year of 
Edward III. when the statutes of Kilkenny were enacted^ 
to the reign of king Henry VIII. we find the degenerate 
and disobedient English called Rebels; but the IHsh f whicl 
were not in the king's peace, are called Enemies, Statute 
of Kilkenny, c. 1, 10 and II.— 11 Hen. IV. c. 24.— K 
Hen. VI. c. 1, 18.— 18 Hen. VI. c. 4.-5 Edw. IV. c. 6.— 
10 Hen. VIII. c. 17. All these statutes speak of English 
Rebels and Irish enemies, as if the Irish had never bee] 
in the condition of subjects, but always out of the protec- 
tion of the laws, and were indeed in a worse case than 
aliens of any foreign realm that was in amity with the 
crown of England. For by divers other penal laws, the 
English were forbidden to marry, to foster, to make gos- 
sipes with the Irish, or to have any trade or commerce in 
their markets and fairs. Nay there was a law made no 
longer since than tbe 28th Hen. VIII. that the English 
should not marry with any person of Irish blood, though 
he had got a charter of denization, unless be had doin 
both homage and fealty to the king in the chancery, and 
were also bounden by recognisance in sureties to continue 
a loyal subject. Whereby it is manifest, that such as hai 
the government of Ireland under the crown of England, die 
intend to make a 'perpetual separation of enmity between 
the English and the Irish." 



WITLTAJVI SAMPSON. 273 

One thing appears from all the old laws and tyrannies, 
that the Irish knew how to live, and the English were glad 
to learn from them; that their women were pretty and 
endearing, and the English were glad to marry them; and 
they were happier with the Irish manners than their own. 
No laws, however atrocious, could ever hinder them from 
loving these engaging Irish women, nor adopting the jovial 
manners of the men. They paid dear for it; they were 
confiscated in their turn, and nicknamed degenerate. And 
now, when there was little more to take from the Irish, 
they fell upon the English-Irish, and distinguished be- 
tween English hy birth and English by blood, and so open* 
ed anew road to commodious habitations. Two other nick- 
names were added, "Irish-English" and "English-Irish!" 
But this was a little more complex, and required more law; 
for the crimes of the mere Irish were easy of proof and 
hard of defence, viz. that they were born in their own 
country and spoke their own language. And even th# 
Pope's bull was ex abundantia. This right of the English 
to massacre the Irish, was not half so good as that of the 
Mohawks, if there be any Mohawks at this day, would be 
to scalp the New-Yorkers, because the New-Yorkers could 
not speak Mohawk; provided always, that the Mohawks 
had a bull from the Pope and tomahawks enough. For 
the Mohawks might say over and above, that we in New- 
York were foreigners, degenerate Rebel-English; that we 
spoke English; they might divide us into English by 
birth, and English by blood; and that some of us were 
mere English and Rebel-English, and that we fostered and 
gossipped with the English, and were more English than 
the English themselves. Ipsis angiitis angliciores.'U 
But hear the attorney-general; "The Irish nation pe* 



tftt 



MEMOIRS OP 



titioned to be naturalized." This was the Catholic ques- 
tion in abstract! The then king, Edward III. (Q^not 
king George III. observe, "satisfied his conscience by re- 
f erring to his Irish counsellors." And the Irish counsellors, 
(Q 23 not the Beresfords and the Clares, satisfied the king's 
conscience by assuring him, "that the Irish might not be 
naturalized without damage or prejudice to themselves or 
to the crown." What a happy conscience is a king's con- 
science! So the commodious habitations and "the wild 
fowl," were still good game. A simple man like you or I, 
would not perhaps understand why a man might not be 
naturalized in his own country, "without prejudice to him- 
self." But these counsellors were the "lives and fortune 9 s 
men" of that day, and knew their own reasons. "The 
truth is," says sir John, "these great English lords did, 
to the uttermost of their power, cross and withstand the 
enfranchisement of the Irish, for the causes before ex- 
pressed." 

Again, he says, "as long as they were out of the pro- 
tection of the law, so as every Englishman might oppress, 
spoile and kill them without controulement, how was it 
possible they should be otherwise than outlaws and ene- 
mies to the king of England? When they might not con- 
verse or commerce with any civill men, nor enter into any 
towne or city without perill of their lives, whether should 
they flie but into the woods and mountaines, and there live 
in a wilde and barbarous manner?" Here was the origin 
of "wilde Irishmen," that fine topic of jest to the ignorant 
and the witling! "In a word," adds our author, "if the 
English would neither in peace govern them by the law, 
nor in warre roote them out by the sword, must they not 
needs be pricks in their eyes, and thorns in their sides to 



WILLIAM SAMPSON,. $J5 

the worlde's end?" And in another place he says, "the 
Irish were generally reputed aliens to the crown of Eng- 
land, so that it was no felony to kill a mere Irishman in 
time of peace." 

By the 4th chapter of the statutes made at Trim, 25 
Hen. VI. (A. D. 1447) it was enacted, "that if any were 
found with their upper lips unshaven by the space of a fort- 
night, it might be lawful for any man to take them and 
their goods as Irish enemies, and to ransom them as Irish 
enemies," 

By the 28th Henry VI. c. 3 (A. D. 1450.) it was also 
made lawful "for every liegeman of the king to dispose of 
them without judge or jury." You may recollect how 
the English disposed of that poor king himself without 
judge or jury; and rewards were put upon their heads at 
the suggestion of the resentment of any private individual. 

By a statute of the 50th Edward IV. c. 2 (A. D. 1465) 
it was enacted, "that it should be lawful to all manner of 
men that found any thieves robbing, by day or by night, 
or going to rob or steal, in or out, going or coming, hav- 
ing no faithful man of good name and fame in their company 
in English apparel, upon any of the Hege people of the 
king, to take and kill those and cut off their heads, without 
any impeachment of our sovereign lord and king, &c." 
Now that this was expressly saying that any Englishman 
might kill any Irishman, whether going or coming, in or out, 
is evident, because the clause of exemption is too absurd 
to have any meaning; for no man would go to rob with a 
man of good name and fame in English apparel in his 
company. And this necessary escort of a man in English 
apparel resembles the customs of the wandering Tartars, 
and the plundering hordes of Arabia, whom the traveller 



&?6 MEMOIRS OF 

is obliged to hire to protect Inni from other robbers of the 
same tribe. But iiear the rest. It was made lawful to cut 
off their heads fa humane, process J "and of any head so 
cut in the county of Meath, that the cutter of the said 
-head, and his ayders there to him, cause the said head so 
cut, to be brought to the Portreeve of the town of Trim, 
and the Portreeve put it on a stake or spear, upon the 
castle of Trim, and that the said Portreeve should give 
him his writing, under the seal of the said town, testifying 
the bringing of the head to him. And that it should be 
lawful for the bringer of the said head and his ayders to 
the same, to destraine and levy with their orun hands" 
(Summary again.) "Of every man having one plough- 
land in the barony where the thief was to be taken, two 
pence; half a pfoughland, one penny; and every man hav- 
ing a house and goods to the value of forty shillings, one 
penny; and of every other cottier having house a«d smoke., 
one half penny." Here was good encouragement to mur- 
der and robbery! And yet God hath said, "Thou shalt 
not steal," and "thou shalt do no murder." What indig- 
nation must these Irish have felt, whose laws, milder even 
than the benignant institutions of the country where I 
write, punished no crime with death. Oh barbarous Eng- 
lishmen! I blush for my bloody ancestors! 

By the 40th Edward III. (A. D. 1366) alliance by mar- 
riage, nurture of infants, and gossipred with the Irish, are 
enacted into high treason. And if any man of English 
race should use an Irish name, Irish language, or Irish ap- 
parel, or any other guise or fashion of the Irish, if he had 
lands or tenements, the same should be seized, until he had 
given security to the chancery, to conform himself in all 
points to the English manner of living! Well does this an- 



WIIXIAM SAMPSON. 277 

thor observe— "That the plagues of Egypt, though they 
were grievous, were of short continuance; but the plague ot* 
Ireland lasted four hundred years together!" And speak- 
ing of another oppression, the Coygue and livery, now ex- 
ercised under the name of free quarters: "it produced, he 
said, two notorious effects; first, it made the land waste; 
for, when the husbandman had labored all the year, the 
soldier in one night did consume the fruits of all his labor. 
And hereupon, of necessity, came depopulation* banishment, 
and extirpation of the better sort of subjects. Lastly, this 
oppression did, of necessitie, make the Irish a crafty peo- 
ple; for such as are oppressed, and live in slavery, are ever 
put to their shifts. And though this oppression was first 
invented in hell, yet if it had been used and practised there, 
as it has been in Ireland, it would long ago have destroyed 
the kingdome of Belzebub." And Dr. Leland describes the 
free quarters of that day, just what we have seen them in 
ours. "Every inconsiderable party, who, under the pretence 
of loyalty, received the King's commission to repel the ad- 
versary in some particular district, became pestilent ene- 
mies to the inhabitants. Their properties, their lives, the 
chastity of their families, were all exposed to barbarians, 
who sought only to glut their brutal passions; and by their 
horrible excesses, purchased the curse of God and man!" 

Such was the persecution of the Irish during four hun- 
dred years prior to the reformation of the religion of the 
English. And yet there are bigots who will impute the 
indignant feelings of the Irish to their hatred to Protest- 
ants, although they were brayed four hundred years in 
the mortar before there was a Protestant. Whether the 
two hundred years that arc to come, gave them more rea- 
son to, rejoice, we shall now consider. 



MEMOIRS OP 



XETTER XXXIV. 

Of the Reformation. 

IN order to understand the new hardships which 
the Irish were now to endure, it is good to take a short 
view of the state of religion in England. We shall hear 
no more now of mere Irish and degenerate English. For 
from this time, their persecutions assume a new form, and 
are earned on in the name of God! Inexplicable paradox! 
How the mildest religion on the earth should be, as it has 
always been, called in aid to sanction the most atrocious 
crimes; and how men have dared, in profanely invoking it, 
to make laws so repugnant to it that they never could be 
obeyed until the laws of God were broken. I cannot bet- 
ter describe the state of religion amongst the English thfrB 
by a short history of the apostle of the reformation. 



The Life and Death of Henry VJ1L 

He was born in 1491, and began to reign in 1509. He 
raised his favorites, the instruments of his crimes, from 
the depth of obscurity to the pinnacle of grandeur, and af- 
ter setting them up as tyrants, put them to death like 
slaves. He was pre-eminent in religion; first quarrelling 
with Luther, whose doctrines he thought too republican, 
lie became defender of the Catholic faith; and then quar- 



WIXXlAM SAMPSON. 379 

gelling with the Pope, who stood in the way of his mur- 
ders, he was twice excommunicated. He made creeds and ■ 
articles, and made it treason not to swear to them; he 
made others quite opposed to them, and made it treason 
not to swear to them; and he burned his opponents with 
slow fire. He burned an hysterical girl, the maid of Kent, 
for her opinions. He disputed with a foolish school-mas- 
ter on the Real Presence, and burned him to convince him. 
He beheaded Bishop Fisher and sir Thomas Moore, for 
not swearing that his own children were bastards. He 
robbed the churches, and gave the revenue of a convent to 
an old woman for a pudding. He burned a lovely young 
woman (Anne Ascue) for jabbering of the real presence. 

He was in love as in religion, delicate and tender. He 
first married his sister-in-law and, because her children 
died, divorced her, married her maid of honor and made 
parliament and clergy declare he had done well. He be- 
headed the maid of honor for letting her handkerchief 
fall at a tilting, and two or three gentlemen with her to 
keep her company, threw her body into an old arrow- 
case and buried it therein, and the very next day married 
a third wife, and his parliament and his clergy made it 
treason not to say it was well. 

He next proposed to Francis I. to bring two princesses 
of Guise, and a number of other pretty French ladies, that 
he might choose a fourth wife among them. The French 
king was too gallant to bring ladies to market like geld, 
ings, so he fell in love with the picture of a Dutch lady, 
and married her without seeing her. When she came, he 
found she spoke Dutch, and did not dance well. He 
swore she was no maid, called her a Flanders mare, and 
turned hex* loose; and as he had destroyed Cardinal 



2&0 MEMOIRS 01 

Woolsey, when he was tired of his former wife, so he be- 
headed Cromwell when he was surfeited with this one. 

He married a fifth wife, with whom he was so delighted, 
-that he had forms of thanksgiving composed by his bishops 
and read in the churches, and then condemned her, her 
grand mother, uncles, aunts, cousins, about a dozen in all, 
to be put to death. Having done all this, and much more, 
he died of a i-otten leg, in the 38th year of his reign, and 
in the 56th of his life, a royal peep-of-daij~boy, and a very 
memorable brute. 



Of the Popes of London. 

Now when we consider what kind of person this Henry 
was, can we wonder that the Irish were not prepared to 
Bwear that he was the elect man of God, the successor of 
St. Peter; that he kept the keys of Heaven; that he was 
Christ's vice-gerent upon earth; in short, that he was the 
supreme head of the church, which in their idea was the 
POPE; would it not at least have required time, persua- 
sion, gentleness, good offices and great benefits to have en-* 
gaged the followers of the benevolent St. Patrick to quit 
his opinions for the extravagant absurdities of this beast? 
Alas! instead of persuasion, it was new cruelties; and the 
persecutions that had exhausted inhumanity, seemed but 
to revive under the more frightful auspices of perverted re- 
ligion! Yet the interested and the intriguing, those who 
traffic k with the king's conscience and the people's misery, 
affect to impute all the disaffection of the Irish to religious 
bigotry. That the same war. was carried on against them 



WILLIAM SAMPSON. 281 

after a* before the reformation, is certain; the war-whoop 
was only changed. And the arrows that were prepared 
for them before, were only dipped anew in this fresh poi- 
son. The reformation might be an amelioration, or it 
might not, according to its effects. The tree is known 
by its fruit. For my own part, I care as little for Pope 
Clement as for Pope Henry; for Pope Pious as for Pope 
George, if persecution be all the benefit they bestow. But 
upon this new topic I must hold my pen short, for it is* 
apt to run away with me. A few instances out of many 
may suffice, to shew that the reformation, however good 
in its principle, brought nothing to the Irish but new affiic- 
tions. This is the view of Irish history, which best an- 
swers to your question as to the true causes of the troubles 
in Ireland. 

Henry was not too busy disputing with school-masters, 
broiling young ladies, and murdering his wives, to have 
time also for tormenting the Irish. He formed a parlia 
incut as corrupt and servile as that of England, which- 
like it, first declared his first marriage void and the chil- 
dren of it bastards; immediately after, hearing of the 
murder of Anne of Bolein, repealed that law, declared 
the issue of Anne bastards, and settled the succession up- 
on the issue of lady Jane, with a power to the nestv Fojye of 
disposing of the Irish by will. 

But wicked and ruffian as Henry was, he was not blind.; 
and after many violent attempts, he found it wise to soothe 
and flatter the Irish, inviting them to his court, and treat- 
ing their chiefs with marked distinction; by which arti- 
fice (for the Irish are too easily won by kindness, though 
obstinate against oppression) he was followed up hy a 
brigade of Irish to the siege of Cologne, who distin- 

m m 



£8£ MEMOIRS OF 

guished themselves by their extraordinary courage and 
activity. 

Edward VI. was a virtuous, or what the historians call 
a weak prince; and if he signed any instruments of intol- 
erance or cruelty, it was with tears in his eyes! 

Queen Mary (the bloody) was a bigoted Papist, but Ire- 
land fared all alike; and the "commodious'* habitation? 
produced new rebellions. 

Pope Eizabcth repealed all the laws of her sister, con- 
liscated the commodious habitations without mercy, sent 
commissioners to exercise ecclesiastical jurisdiction, and 
passed the .oath of supremacy, of which this may be ob- 
served, that it was now not enough to assent to the doc- 
trine that the kings of England were the popes of Ire- 
land; but for fear that should not be effectual in provoking 
revolt, they were forced, under pain of treason, forfeiture 
and prcemnniere to swear to it. This was not the pitch- 
cap-torture for the head, but the torture for the conscience 
and the heart. It was establishing God Almighty by law 
after the fancy of the wickedest of his creatures. When, 
in old times, it was attempted to force the Norman laws 
upon the English, the Barons cried out with one voice, 
"We will have no change in the English law!** Noluimis 
leges anglae mutare. This exclamation, so extolled, was 
in opposition to a humane law proposed by the Canonists 
at the parliament of Merton, the object of which was, to 
rescue from innocent disgrace children whose parents 
married after their birth. But the stubborn support of an- 
cient institutions, good or bad, by Englishmen is cele- 
brated with unbounded commendation; whilst if Irishmen 
refuse to swear against their conscience and belief, there 



WHXXAM SAMPSON; 283 

to no pain nor ignominy too extreme; so bard a measure 
fe that dealt ac all times to them. 

It was in the reign of this Pope Elizabeth, that the re- 
bellion of the great chieftain, O'Neil, raged, who was so 
treacherously murdered in a camp; and the title she set 
up to his estate is quite amusing: It appears in the pre- 
amble of the statute, XL Eliz. ch. 1, in these words: 

"And first, that at the beginning, and before the comming 
of Irishmen into the sayd land ( Ireland J they were dwel- 
ling in a province of Spain, called Biscan, whereof Bayon 
was a member and the chief citie; and that at the said 
Irishmen's comming into Ireland, one king Gurmonde, 
son to the noble king Bclan, king of Great Britaine, which 
is called England, was lord of Bayon, as many of his 
successours were to the time of Henry the Second, first 
conquerour of this realm, and therefore the Irishmen 
should be the king of England his people, and Ireland his 
land. Another title is, that at the same time that Irishmen 
came of Biscay as exiled persons in sixtie ships, they met 
with the same king Gurmond upon the sea, at Hie lies of 
Orcades, then coming from Denmark, with great victory, 
their captaines called Heberus and Hermon, went to this 
king, and him told the cause of their comming out of Bis- 
cay, and him prayed with great instance, that he would 
graunt unto them, that they might inhabit some land in 
the west. The king at last, by advice of his counsel, 
granted to them Ireland to inhabit, and assigned unto 
them guides for the sea, to bring them thither!" Then 
follow nearly twenty such reasons, equally pleasant, all 
which satisfied the Queen's conscience, that O'Neil-s estate 
belonged of right to her! 

Need any man want a title to another's land, if he be 



£&4 MEMOIRS OF 

strong enough to take it? Is there but one king Gurmond? 
This was an old title to be sure; but nullum tempos occurnt 
regi, Kings have long hands? and Pope Elizabeth's hands 
were longer than her feet; for she could lay her hands up- 
on many a commodious seat, where she never could set her 
foot. 

This title of king Gurmond was turning the joke upon 
the three sons of king Milesius, and the descendants of the 
SkuthoL 

I suppose king Gurmond gave her leave to plunder the 
churches, for she did it roundly; still there was no forcing 
the mere Irish, nor the degenerate English, to quit Saint 
Patrick for the Pope of London. The Roman Pope ex- 
communicated the she Pope and Ghmnonded all her lands; 
but she cared for him as little as I do for her. She man- 
aged so well by her deputies in Ireland, that she made 
a sufficient number of rebellions, and exterminated so 
many, and Gurmonded so many estates of O'Neil, Mahons, 
Geraldines and others, that she had now more commodious 
habitations than inhabitants, and began what was called 
the jrtanting. She planted new men in the place of the old 
ones; living in the place of the dead, and sent over my 
Scotch, Welsh and English ancestors to be planted. This 
was like the Dutch farce, of Adam going to be created. 
Some of us throve pretty well, and some of us grew old 
before we grew good. As the plantations were of London 
Papists, the Roman Papists were lopped root and branch, 
to let us grow. 

However, these weedings and plantings cost this lady so 
much money and trouble; the more so, as they were con- 
nected with the disgrace and execution of her lover (Essex) 
that she is said to have died" of it, and there let her rest 



"WILLI A.M SAMPSON. 



Pope James I. 



£8. 



Nbxt comes Pope James the punster — the knight of Uu* 
■marriage ring, and the champion of the surplice. He had 
underhand favored the Irish rebellions, and courted the 
Catholic powers to make his way to the English throne. 
The Irish Catholics thought it a lucky moment. They 
were at first flattered and cajoled, and began to say their 
prayers in their own way; but Mountjoy the deputy shew- 
ed them better, and made war upon them, saying, that 
with the sword of King James, he would cut to pieces the 
charier of Ring John. And it was necessary, upon the 
Stewart-principle, to sacrifice the friend to the enemyi 
On the 4th of July, 1605, he issued a proclamation, that 
"whereas his majesty was informed, that his subjects of 
Ireland had been deceived by a false report; that his majes- 
ty was disposed to allow them liberty of conscience, and 
free choice of a religion, contrary to that which he had al- 
ways professed himself; by which means it had happened 
that, man-/ of his subjects of that kingdom had determined 
to remain firmly in that religion; wherefore he declared to 
all his subjects of Ireland, that he would not admit of any 
such liberty of conscience, as they were made to expect by 
that report." And thereupon his deputy (Chichester) 
managed so well in provoking rebellions, that the estates 
of the Earls Tyrone, Tyrconnel, and Sir Cahir Q'Dogh- 
erty, and their followers, were confiscated, comprising al- 
most six counties; and the commodious seats were parcelled 
out amongst my ancestors who flocked from England and 
Scotland; and a great number of Presbyterians were plant- 
ed, who since became the most arch rebels of us all. Chi- 
chester was rewarded with all the estate of Sir Cahir 



MEMOIRS OF 

O'Dogherty and the territory of Innishowcti. The whole 
province of Ulster was now confiscated (511,456 Irish 
acres) and some London traders bought a great tract, and 
thereupon built the city of Londonderry, where was born 
tliat degenerate traitor whose memoirs I write; and who, 
but for the building of that city, must either never have 
been born, or been born somewhere else. 

In the grants to us foreigners, there was a whimsical 
clause, "that we should not suffer a laborer to dwell upon 
mr lands, that would not take the oath of supremacy ." 
Sir Walter Raleigh, in the preceding reign, had 40,000 
acres granted him. But after thirteen years imprison- 
ment, he was in this Pope's reign beheaded. Chichester 
was the first that organized Protestant ascendancy-men, 
no Popery men, lives and fortunes-men, and peep -of -day- 
boys, since called Orange-men. The Catholics sent depu- 
ties to lay their griefs before the king; the deputies sent 
deputies after their deputies, and had them imprisoned by 
his majesty; in whose speech to the lords of his council, in 
presence of the Irish agents at Whitehall, the 21st of Sep- 
tember, 1613, are these curious passages of royal eloquence 
and taste. 

''There came petitions to the deputy of a body without a 
head; a headless body; you would be afraid to meet such 
a body in the streets; a body without a head, to speakj 
nay, half a body; what a monster was this! a very bug- 
bear! Methinks you that would have a visible body, head 
of the church over the whole earth, and acknowledge a 
temporal head under Christ, ye may likewise acknowledge 
my viceroy or deputy of Ireland." 

And in speaking of creating new peers and boroughs, 
"What is it to you, whether I make many or few boroughs? 



WILLIAM SAMPSON £87 

My council may consider the fitness if I require it; but if I 
made forty noblemen and four hundred boroughs, the more 
the merrier; the fewer the better cheer." What do you 
think of the eloquence of this king? 

And again, "You that are of a contrary religion must 
not look to be the law-makers; you are but half subjects 
and should have but half privileges." Whimsical arrange- 
ment; half privileges for natives, and whole privileges for 
strangers. 

And again, "There is a double cause why I should be 
careful of the welfare of that people; first, asking of Eng- 
land, by reason of the long possession the crown of Eng- 
land hath had of that land; and also as king of Scotland, 
for the ancient kings of Scotland are descended from the 
kings of Ireland, so I have an old title as king of Scot- 
land." 

It was in this Pope's reign that the commissioners were 
sent to enquire into defective titles. Some old Gurmond 
claim was set up to every estate, and juries were 
summoned who, if they refused to find for king GurmQnd* 
were tried themselves and condemned in the star chamber. 
In short, Pope James was so active a planter, that every 
thing was done to clear the ground for his plantations. 



Charles I. 



ix order, if possible, to understand the complicated 
miseries of this wretched monarch's reign, we must take a 
short view, o? the political and religious parties in England,, 
Scotland and Ireland. 



288 MEMOIRS OF 

Iii England was the King-Pope and his high priest 
Laud, the stickler for postures, ceremonies, meats, copes 
and vestments; three sects of Puritans, political, disci- 
pHnal and doctrinal; Jlnninians, a nick-name for all their 
opposcrs; the parliament and the army Puritans, the royal 
party, Hierarchists. and many other sects besides, agreeing 
only in the sour spirit of higotry. 

In Scotland, the covenanters exceeding all others in 
hatred to royalty and the hierarchy, and by that bond of 
hatred united with the Puritans, clamorous for civil and 
religious liberty for themselves, and intolerant to all others.. 

In Ireland was no spirit of innovation, but merely at- 
tachment to ancient constitution in church and state. 

Whatever were the political griefs of any party, those of 
the Irish were indisputable; and this appears from the 
mere names of the chiefs of the celebrated rebellion of 
1641. For at the head of them was the noble and gallant 
Roger Moore; a name, but that he was an Irishman, fit; to 
occupy a nich in the temple of fame, whose ancestors pos- 
sessed the dynasty of Leix, and were by queen Mary dis- 
possessed; his friend, the son of the great Hugh G'Neh% 
whose father was dispossessed of Ulster; M'Guire, whose 
father was expelled from his territory of Fermanagh, 
M'Mahon, O'Reilly and Byrne, whose family had been so 
treacherously persecuted by sir William Parsons, after- 
wards impeached for his own crimes. And to these were 
attached all the innocent victims who, sharing the fate of 
their chiefs, had been confiscated in mass. 

To shew the difference between the moderation of the 
Irish Papists, and that of our Scotch and English ances- 
tors, let the following extract from Hume's England 
suffice. 



WIU.IAM SAMPSON. 289 

"On reading of the new liturgy in Edenburgh, no soon- 
er had the Dean, arrayed in his surplice, opened the hook, 
than a multitude of the meanest sort, most of them women, 
clapping their hands, cursing and crying out, a Pope! a 
Pope! Anti-Christ! stone him! raised such a tumult that it 
was impossible to proceed with the service. The bishop 
mounting the pulpit, in order to appease the populace, had 
a stool thrown at him; and it was with difficulty that the 
magistrates were able, partly by force and partly by au- 
thority, to expel the rabble and shut the doors against 
them. The tumult however still continued without 
Stones were thrown at the doors and windows; and when 
the service was ended, the bishop going home was attack- 
ed and narrowly escaped from the enraged multitude. In 
the afternoon, the privy seal, because he carried the bish- 
op in his coach, was so pelted with stones, and hooted at 
with execrations, and pressed upon by the eager populace, 
that if his servants with drawn swords had not kept them 
©If, the bishop's life had been exposed to the utmost 
danger." 

The Covenanters besides solicited foreign aid from 
Cardinal Richlieu, the French minister, whilst the Irish 
remained loyal to their king." 

Now, of two things, one, either the Scotch were wrong 
not to take the liturgy t as it was sent to them by their 
king, and still more wrong to seek foreign aid from a 
French cardinal and a despotic power, however contrary 
to their conscience and belief; or the Irish were right not 
tamely to surrender both their conscience and their estates, 
still continuing loyal to their king. Yet strange instance 
of human bigotry and depravity, these same Scotch would 

allow neither quarter nor mercy to the Irish: and stranger 

n n 



^90 MEMOIRS 0* 

still, Mr. Hume, that wise and philosophic historian, sq 
little of a sectarian, that he is accused of Deism, has sur- 
passed his own eloquence in stigmatizing the Irish for 
their resistance; and has therehy deluded and misled many 
an innocent and unprejudiced mind. He would have ren- 
dered a greater service to humanity, if at least, after ex- 
claiming against the cruelties of the Irish, he had censured 
their iniquitous plunderers, the authors of their misery and 
their despair. 

"With respect to this poor king, he paid dearly for his 
folly and ingratitude. There was but one party in the 
world true to him, the Irish Catholics; and in the true 
principle of his family, he sacrificed them to every one 
that hated him; to those in fact that repaid him by cutting 
off his head. 

His enemies impeached his favorite Strafford with his 
crimes against the Irish, not from justice towards the 
Irish, whom they persecuted still more; but from hatred 
to him. He defended Strafford, and was obliged to sign 
his death warrant. He then sent over Ormond, a traitor 
to himself, and whose rancour against the Catholics was 
so bitter, that rather than make peace with them he diso- 
beyed his master's orders, and brought his head to the 
block; for had not his avarice and bigotry inclined him to 
keep up the war, the Regicides would not have had the 
power of executing their purpose. Ormond was a zealous 
bigot, a cold-blooded murderer, and a mercenary traitor. 
He first obtained, in consideration of the cessation so 
pressingly ordered by the king, thirty thousand pounds, and 
an army of several thousand men to serve in Scotland, 
where they distinguished themselves pre-eminently; he 
then refused to lead the Catholics against the king's ene» 



WILLIAM SAMPSON** SSfci 

mies in Ireland; and for a stipulated price of five thousand 
pounds in hand, and two thousand pounds for five years 
successively, and payment of his enormous debts, surren- 
dered his sword, the castle, and the king's authority, to 
the rebels; and forged a letter from the king to give colour 
to his perfidy. No man was more instrumental to the 
execution of Charles, or more perfidious, or more atrocious 
to the Irish. He promised quarter to the garrison of 
Timolin for their gallant defence, and butchered them after 
their surrender, in cold blood. He laid waste whole ter- 
ritories without compunction, and plundered without re- 
morse. It is impossible to give any idea of the unceasing 
cruelties of this more than of the other reigns. But I 
cannot help citing the reasons of lord Castlehaven for 
joining the Catholic confederates, they are so like those 
which I have given for my own opinions. "I began to 
consider the condition of the kingdom, as that the state did 
chiefly consist of men of mean birth and quality, that most 
of them, steered by the influence and power of those that 
were against the king, that they had, by cruel massacre- 
ing, hanging and torturing, been the slaughter of thousands 
of innocent men, women and children, better subjects than 
themselves! That they, by all their actions shewed that 
they looked at nothing but the extirpation of the nation. 

To THESE I COULD BE NO TRAITOR." So Said lord 

Castlehaven, and so we say all ! 

With respect to the loyalty of the Catholics to king' 
Charles, as an Irishman, I should rather seek for an ex- 
cuse for its absurdity, than proofs of its truth, unless they 
believed that he pitied them; and with their characteristic 
generosity, imputed his crimes against them to his neces- 
sities, to the terror of his enemies, or the perfidy of his min 



g£g MEMOIRS Of 

istersf There is no other excuse for their folly. "To 
love those that persecute you," does not go so far as to 
say, that you shall ahet the murderers either of others or 
yourselves. 

His cruelties to them were more cutting, hecause they 
were more ungrateful, than those of the Plantagenets and 
the Tudors. They would have saved him from his ene- 
mies, and he sold them to those enemies. They offered 
him money for justice, to suspend the rohheries, under the 
searches for defective titles, to grant them toleration, by 
suspending the torture of their consciences by false oaths 
and conformity acts. He took their money, and flagitious- 
ly broke his word to gratify his own murderers. But that 
he was not so hardened as to be entirely without com- 
punction, appears from his own words in his book, entitled 
Eikon Basilike, with which I shall conclude this reign. 

"And certainly it is thought, by many wise men, that 
the preposterous rigor and unreasonable severity, which 
some men carried before them in England, was not the 
least incentive that kindled and blew Up those horrid 
flames, the sparks of discontent, which wanted not predis- 
posed fuel for rebellion in Ireland; where despair being ad- 
ded to their former discontents, and the fear of utter extir- 
pation to their wonted oppressions, it was easy to provoke 
to an open rebellion a people prone enough to break out to 
all exhorhitant violence, both by some principles of their 
religion, and the natural desires of liberty; both to exempt 
themselves from their present restraints, and to prevent 
those after-rigors wherewith they saw themselves appar- 
ently threatened by the covetous zeal and uncharitable 
fury of some men, who think it a great argument of the 
truth of their religion, to endure no other than their own. 



WILLIAM SAMPSOff. 293 

"I Would to God no man had been less affected with 
Ireland's sad estate than myself. I offered to go myself 
in person upon that expedition; but some men were either 
afraid I should have any one kingdom quieted, or loath 
they were to shoot at any mark less than myself; or that 
any should have the glory of my destruction but themselves. 
Had my many offers been accepted, I am confident neither 
the ruin would have been so great, nor the calamity so long, 
nor the remedy so desperate. 

"But some kind of zeal counts all merciful modera- 
tion, lukewarmness, and had rather be cruel than counted 
cold; and is not seldom more greedy to kill the bear for 
his skin, than for any harm he hath done; the confiscation 
of men's estates being more beneficial, than the charity 
of saving their lives or reforming their errors. And I 
believe it will at last appear, that they who first began to 
embroil my other kingdoms, are in great part guilty, if 
not of the first letting out, yet of the not timely stopping 
those horrid effusions of blood in Ireland." 

Such was the late conviction of this unfortunate martyr 
to the cruel rapacity of its ministers. An awful lesson 1 



The Lord Protector. 

Never was this title of protector more undeserved, at 
least in Ireland. His hatred to the Irish was three-fold. 
He hated them from bigotry, because they did not "seek 
the Lord." He hated them because they were loyal to 
that king whose head lie cut off; and he hated them be- 
^ause they had commodious seats for habitations* He in- 



294 AfKMOIRS OF 

vited the garrison of Drogheda to surrender, and promisee! 
quarter, and slaughtered man, woman and child. He did 
the same at Wexford. He collected all the native Irish 
who remained, and transported them to Connaught, which 
had been laid waste and depopulated. According to Dar- 
iymple (Mem. vol. 1, page 267) "He transported 40,000 
Irish from their own country, to fill all the armies of Eu- 
rope with complaints of his cruelty, and admiration of 
their valour." "This," adds Darlymple, "was the first 
foundation of Irish corps in foreign armies." To recite 
all his crimes would be endless. 
This brings us to the restoration of 

Charles II. 

The reign of Cromwell was a reign of terror; and 
Cromwell was a Robespierre. But to whom or to what 
can we compare the mean ingratitude of Charles? Cicero 
was sacrificed to the atrocious vengeance of Mark Antho- 
ny, an eternal blot on the character of the Divine Augustus. 
But the Irish nation, who had suffered the extreme of mise- 
ry for this outcast race, were sacrificed to the obsequious 
passion of this wretch for the murderers of his father. 
When an exile in Holland, he promised every thing to his 
faithful Catholics, and confirmed the peace made with 
them by Ormond. 

When he came to Scotland, he took the covenant, and 
swore that he would have no enemies but the enemies of 
the covenant; that he did detest Popery, superstition and 
idolatry, together with prelacy, resolving not to tolerate, 
much less to allow, those in any part of his dominions, and 
to endeavor the extirpation thereof, to the utmost of his 
power. And he expressly pronounced the peace lately 



WIIXIAM SAMPSON, 295 

made with the Irish and confirmed by himself, to be null 
and void, adding that he was fully convinced of the sin- 
fulness and unlawfulness of it, and of his allowing them 
(the confederates) the liberty of the Papist religion, for 
which he did from his heart desire to be deeply humbled 
before the Lord, and for having sought unto such unlawful 
help for restoring him to his throne. 

When this abject being was restored to the English 
throne, he broke his covenant, embraced Prelacy, and be- 
came, hi every sense of the word, King-Pope of London. 
But though he broke his Scotch covenant, he did not keep his 
Irish covenant. It is enough to say, that he sought out 
the bitterest enemies of the Catholics to govern them* 
Broughill, the turn-coat, sir Charles Coote, the butcher, 
and the bigotted and rancorous traitor, Ormond — the Cas^ 
tiereagh, Carhampton and Clare of that day. The first 
act was a proclamation for apprehending and prosecuting 
all Insh rebels, and commanding that soldiers and others 
who were possessed of any lands, should not be disturbed in 
their possessions. Note, these Irish rebels were the faith- 
ful soldiers who fought for his father under this same Or- 
mond; and the adventurers were the murderers of his 
father; and the others were Ormond, Broughill and Coote. 
How well these traitors profited by the miseries they cre- 
ated, appears by this, that Ormond gained three hundred- 
thousand pounds! a royal fortune at that day, besides 
places, bribes and emoluments. Broughill was made earl 
of Orrery, and Coote earl of Montrath; the two latter 
made lords justices, and Ormond lord lieutenant. Such 
was this witty and profligate Charles, upon whose bed his 
friend and jester, Rochester, inscribed, in his life-time^ this 
ludicrous epitaph: 



296 MEMOIRS OF 

••Here lies our sovereign lord the king, 
"Whose word no man relies on; 

•'Who never said a foolish thing, 
"Nor never did a wise one." 



James II. 



Once more a Romish Monarch. The Irish rejoice, ex- 
ult; they hope for mitigation of their sore oppresions; they 
support their lawful kings, who certainly never abdicated 
the crown of Ireland. The support of him against a 
Dutchman, who had married his daughter and was driving 
him from his throne, was judged to he rebellion, and for 
the generous support of this Stewart against the fanaticism 
of his enemies, the rebellion of his subjects, and his own 
unworthiness, they lost a million of acres of their fruitful 
soil; and my ancestors who got them, were called the 
JVilliamites, 



A Dutch Pope. 



Of the heads of the church, or Popes of London, none 
was less bigoted than this one. He even brought with him 
into England some of those principles of liberty, which 
afterwards encreased, and made that little island prosper 
as it has done; and the loss of which liberty, with other 
crimes, has brought it to its present state of danger. 

I have no objection to the English celebrating the §lo» 



W*1IXIAM SAMPSON. £97 

fious memory of this deliverer; to deliver them from a 
periidious and tyrannical race of kings, was really a 
deliverance; but I am an Irishman, endeavoring to write 
Irish history with truth aud brevity. I therefore give you 
his healtfi, as I have heard it drank by Irishmen. 

"Here's the glorious and immortal memory of king 
William, who delivered us from Popery (by persecution) 
•slavery (by conquest) brass money (by empty purses) and 
wooden shoes (by bare feet.") He began his reign by 
kicking his father-in-law from the throne, and finished it 
fry breaking his own neck. 



Pope Jlnne of London. 

The last of the Stewarts, This weak woman, vacil- 
lated between whigs and tories, was forced into the perse- 
cution of the Irish as she had been into the act of at- 
tainder of her brother, and the proclaiming a reward of 
jiftij thousand pounds for his arrestation. In her reign, 
also passed the laws of discovery and those for the prer 
vention of the growth of Popery, the most monstrous that 
had yet sullied the Irish code; and still more odious, if 
such crimes admitted of comparisons, by being a direct in« 
fringement of the treaty of Limerick between the Irish 
and king William. 

By these laws the Roman Catholics were absolutely dis- 
armed; they could not purchase land; if a son, though the 
youngest, abjured the Catholic religion, he inherited the 
whole estate of his family; and if he turned discoverer, 

during the life-time of his father, he took possession of 

oo 



£98 memoirs or 

his fortune, and left him and his family beggars or depen- 
dants, if dependance could be upon one who had violated 
the principles of filial duty. 

If a Catholic had a horse in his possession, of whatever 
value, a Protestant might take it upon paying him Jive 
pounds. 

If the rent paid by any Catholic was less than two thirds 
of the full improved value, whoever discovered or turned 
informer, took the benefit of the lease. 

Barbarous restrictions were laid on educations at home, 
and penalties on obtaining it abroad, and the child in 
whose love the father had centered the hopes of his declin- 
ing years, was liable to be snatched from his fond arms 
and entrusted to a Protestant guardian, the interested ene- 
my of his religion and his peace. And this temptation 
was not only held out to adults, but to infants incapable of 
choice or judgment, whose tender years have no depend- 
ance but in a parent's care; no protection but in his love. 

In what code, christian or heathen, can we find a paral- 
lel for such pollution? Would it not, in any other country, 
be an apology for a thousand rebellions? and would it not 
stamp the nation where it originated (unless England be 
especially dispensed from every obligation, human or di- 
vine) with the indelible stain of everlasting infamy? 

In all countries informers are odious, and instruments 
only of the guilty and impure. But what code ever held 
out the property of the father as a bribe to the treachery 
of the son? "Honor thy father," is the commandment of 
God. "Rob thy father," that of a fiend! Yet has this 
law raised a trophy of immortal honor to the Irish name! 
for I can hear of no one instance where an Irish son has 
been found so base as to enter into the views of these mon r 






WIIXXAM SAMPS0J*. 2&9 

.strolls law-givers, by trampling on the dictates of nature, 
of religion and of honor. 

Another instance of exquisite depravity; the wife was 
also bribed to turn against the husband, and the principles 
of dissention were sown in the marriage-bed; and lest the 
social ties and endearing affections of the heart should ever 
operate to bring about in Ireland peace, union and for- 
giveness, heavy penalties were inflicted upon what was 
grossly termed committing matrimony, where one party 
was. a Catholic! 

Now what was the crime of the Irishman? To rest sat- 
isfied with the religion of his fathers. What motive ex- 
cept terror, had he to embrace the new religion? None. 
He knew it only by its perversion; he could not view it but 
with horror; for it was never presented to him but as an 
instrument of persecution and of spoliation. This is a 
strong assertion. I will support it by strong proofs of his- 
tory. Let us take a short view of the reformation in Ire- 
land. 



Of the Reformation in Ireland. 

"At the reformation," says Spencer, "preachers were 
sent to them who did not know their language." "Be- 
sides," says he, "the inferior clergy in those days, who 
had the immediate cure of souls, were men of no parts nor 
erudition; but what is worse, they were still as immoral as 
they were illiterate;" and in another place he adds, "they 
were most licentious and disordered; and for the better 
reformation of them (the Irish Catholics) they put their 
clergy, whom they reverenced, to death." 



300 MEMOlXtS 0£ 

By the 2d Elizabeth, chapter 2, it appears they were 
forced to be present at the reading of the litany in a barba 
rous language (for so the English appeared to them) and 
which they did not understand; and to complete the ab- 
surdity, a remedy was provided, that where the Irish 
priest did not know English, he might speak Latin. 

In the reign of James I. it was ordered, that the bible* 
and common-prayer-book should be translated into Irish*'; 
upon which an Irish Protestant Bishop said, laughing to 
his friend, "In Queen Elizabeth's time we had English bi- 
bles and Irish ministers; but now we have ministers come 
of England, and Irish bibles with them." 

Might not the Irishman reply to this mockery — "Makest 
thou thy shame thy pastime?" 

"The benefices were bestowed upon the English and 
Scotch, not one of them having three words of the Irish 
tongue."! 

Their first care was to dispossess the ancient clergy of 
their benefices; and there are some curious accounts in old 
authors of the successors appointed to them. 

"Bishop Bonner, when lie was in the Marshal sea, sent 
a letter by a Chaplain to the Archbishop, wherein he mer- 
rily related how these Bishops had ordained each other at 
an inn, where they met together. Whilst others laughed 
at this new method of consecrating Bishops, the Archbish- 
op shed tears, and lamented that such ragged companions 
should come poor out of foreign parts to succeed the old 
clergy in rich deaneries, prebendaries, and canon places, 
who had such ill-luck at meeting with dishonest wives, as 
an ordinance was put out by the queen and parliament 

tTheatre of Prat, and Cath, Religion, p. 2<£: 



WIIXIAM SAMPSON 3X)1 

that no woman should for a wife be commended to any 
minister, without her honesty withal could be sufficiently 
testified unto him."f 

Bishop Burnet, in his life of Bedel, says, '•That the 
bribes went about almost barefaced, and the exchange they 
made of pennance for money, was the worst of simony." 

In the Commons Journals, 1640, the Protestant Bishops 
are stated "to have exacted money for holy-water, for 
anointing, for mortuary -muttons, mary-gallons, Saint-Vat- 
rick-ndges, soul-money, and the like." And the House of 
Commons, in their humble remonstrance, state, "that the 
money taken in commutation qfpennance was not converted 
to pious uses, but made a private jwofit." 

And Wentworth, who suffered for his own crimes,^: calls 
them "an unlearned clergy, who have not so much as the 
outward form of churchmen to cover themselves withal, 
nor their persons any way reverenced.' 5 

The oaths of supremacy, conformity and uniformity, 
were #e instruments used by the new clergy to dispossess 
the old. Sir Arthur Chichester was one of the most cruel 
and intemperate enforcers of these penalties; so much so* 
that in 1606> the sufferers sent over Sir Patrick Barnwell 
to complain to the King and Council; for which he was 
committed to the' tower, and instructions were sent over to 
the Lord Deputy, not to answer for his conduct, but to 
send them over some answers for formes sake.^ For they 
said that proceedings in matters of religion want not cap- 
tious eyes in that country. 

fLegacy to Prot. p. 

JState Letter, yoI. 1, p. 187\ 

If David.. Curios Hiberh* vol. 1 } p. 489, 



5Q£ MEMOIRS O* 

If any lenity was shewn, the author of it was punished. 
Lord Deputy Falkland was for that reason so clamor- 
ed at hy the bishops and the faction, that he was dismiss- 
ed with disgrace.f 

The clergy did not confine themselves to ecclesiastical 
Censures, nor the operation of the common law. Hammond 
UEstrange relates, that "the lords justices, finding they 
were celebrating mass in Coke's street, sent the Archbishop 
of Dublin, mayor, sheriffs, recorder, and a file of musket- 
eers to apprehend them, which they did, taking away the 
crucifixes and paraments of the altar, the soldiers hewing 
down the images of Saint Francis. Fifteen chapels were 
seized to the king's use, and the priests so persecuted, that 
two of them hanged themselves in their own defence;" 
and this was at the time when the English historians say, 
that the Catholics enjoyed undisturbed possession of their 
religion. 

The ancient laws against the Irish were a compound of 
iniquity and absurdity, marking the semi-barbarity of 
their authors. By the temporary constitutions made in 
Magna Parliamento, in the reign of king Henry VIII. By 
the deputy and council it was ordered, that no nobleman 
should have more than twenty cubits or bandlets of linen 
in their shirts; horsemen, eighteen; footmen, sixteen; 
garsons, twelve; clowns, ten; and none of their shirts 
shall be died with saffron, upon pain of twenty shillings. 

Now however provoking to a nobleman to have his 
shirt cut by act of parliament, yet with twenty cubits he 
might have an ample shirt in despite of the ordonnance; 
hut it is remarkable, that from the time that religion was 

tLeland, vol. 2, p. 481, 



WILLIAM SAMPSON. 363 

called in aid of the persecutions, the laws became infinitely 
more refined, more subtle and more diabolical; so fright- 
ful is religion when profaned to the purposes of villany! 

The penalty of twenty shillings against the saffron- 
coloured sleeves, when coupled with the murders and tor- 
tures inflicted by the pecp~qf-day-government in our times 
upon those who wore green, shews that whatever colours 
or opinions were adopted by the Irish, they were alike to 
be persecuted. As they had wide sleeves they were per- 
secuted; had they narrow sleeves, they would have been 
persecuted. Saffron was persecuted, and green was per- 
secuted. Popery was persecuted; and, had they turned 
Protestants> they would have been persecuted perhaps 
more than ever the next day, and some new crime invent- 
ed as a pretence for plundering them. For we can hardly 
give the English, in queen Anne's time, credit for so 
much stupidity as not to perceive, after so long expe- 
rience, that persecutions could not prevent the growth of 
Popery; for before their time it was a maxim established 
that the blood of the martyrs was the seed of the church. 

Be it as it may, we shall just observe, that the Catho- 
lics, now ground into dust, deprived of education and 
property, and every means of acquiring either, became 
null in their native country. They had no part in the 
framing or execution of the laws, being excluded from the 
parliament and the bench, and from juries and from the 
bar. Their only duty was to bear with patience the penal- 
ties inflicted on them, and be spectators of the ludicrous, 
though interested, quarrels of their oppressors. When 
any question under the penal laws was tried against them, 
it was by a Protestant judge, a Protestant jury; and as 
they had a Protestant prosecutor, so they must have a Pro- 



$04 MEMOIRS OF 

testant advocate. What justice they could look for, 
Heaven knows! They were shut out from all corporations 
and offices, and every privilege belonging to freemen. If 
a Catholic made kettles in Bride street, a Protestant who 
envied himj procured a corporation bye -law, that no Cath- 
olic should work copper in Bride street. If they petitioned 
iiicy were kicked. In short, they were humbled below 
the beasts of the field. The law of discovery, which 
crowns the Popery code, was published without any pre- 
tence of existing provocation or necessity; and if any thing 
were wanting to stamp its complexion, it is the auspices 
under which it passed. The royal assent was given 
by Thomas Lord Wharton, whose character was thus 
sketched by the masterly pen of Swift: 

"Thomas Lord Wharton, by the force of a wonderful 
constitution, had passed, by some years, his grand climac- 
teric, without any visible effects of old age, either on his 
body or his mind; and in spite of a continual prostitution 
to those vices which usually wear out both. His behaviour 
is in all the forms of a young man at five and twenty; whe- 
ther he walks, or whistles, or swears, or talks bawdy, or 
calls names, he acquits himself in each beyond a templar 
of three years standing. He goes constantly to prayers in 
the forms of his place, and will talk bawdy or blasphemy 
at the chapel door. He is a presbyter ian in politics and 
an atheist in religion; he had imbibed his father's princi- 
ples of government, and took up no other in its stead; ex- 
cepting that circumstance, he is a firm presbyterian. It 
was confidently reported, as a conceit of his, that talking 
upon the subject of Irish Bishops, he once said, with great 
pleasure, he hoped to make his w c a b p. 

"He is perfectly skilled in all the arts of managing at 



wixmam Sampson*. 3€5 

elections, as well as in large baits of pleasure; for making 
converts of young men of quality, upon their first appear- 
ance; in which public service he contracted such large 
debts, that the ministry in England were forced, out of 
mere justice, to leave Ireland at his mercy, where he had 
only time to set himself right; although the graver heads 
of his party think him too profligate and abandoned, yet 
they dare not be ashamed of him, for he is very useful in 
parliament, being a ready speaker, and content to employ 
his gift upon such occasions, where those who conceive 
they have any remains of reputation or modesty, are 
ashamed to appear. 

"He hath sunk his fortune by endeavoring to ruin one 
kingdom, and hath raised it by going far in the ruin of 
another. His administration of Ireland was looked upon 
as a sufficient ground to impeach him, at least for high 
crimes and misdemeanors; yet he has gained by the gov- 
ernment of that kingdom, under two years, Jive and forty 
thousand pounds, by the most favorable computation, half 
in the regular way and half in the prudential. 

"He is, says he, without the sense of shame or glory, as 
some men are without the sense of smelling, and therefore 
a good name to him is no more than a precious ointment 
would be to these. ,, 



Mercy. 



Mercy is allied to religion; where the latter is, the 
former must ever be; and the kings of England, when they 
swear to be just, swear also to be merciful. Why did their 

rp 



S06 MEMOIRS OJ? 

counsellors, so careful of their consciences, never remind 
them of that coronation oath? On the contrary, we have 
found them ever exciting them to unrelenting cruelties, be*. 
cause they found their profit in those cruelties; and indeed 
amongst the crimes committed on the Irish by the English* 
none seem more odious than their mercy. 

Morrison (fol. 43) says, "that lord Mountjoy never 
received any to mercy but such as had drawn blood upon 
their fellow-rebels; thus M'Mahon and M'Artmoye offered 
to submit, but neither could be received without the other's 
head." Was that religion? 

And in the pardon granted to Minister, by Sir George 
Carew, he says himself that priests and Romish clergy 
were excepted. Was that reformation? 

When sir C. Wilmot took Lixnaw's Castle, he spared 
the priest's life only to get Lixnaw's child delivered into 
his hands. Was that Christian? 

The English published a proclamation, inviting all well- 
affected Irish to an interview on the Rathmore, at Mul« 
loughmarton, and promising that no harm was intended 
them, and engaging for their security, they came unsus- 
pectingly, were surrounded by bodies of cavalry and in- 
fantry, and were put to the sword. Was that just? 

Lord Thomas Gray went over to London on full promise 
of a pardon, was arrested and executed. Lord Deputy 
Gray had orders to seize five of his uncles; he invited 
them to a banquet; they were seated with the treacherous 
appearance of hospitality, but immediately seized, sent 
prisoners to London and executed.f Was that good faith? 

Queen Elizabeth, fearing, as she said herself, that the 

tLeland, vol. 2, p. 152. 



WIIX1AM SAMPSON. W 

•same reproach might be made to her as to Tiberius by 
Bato; "It is you! you! who have committed your flocks, 
not to shepherds, but wolves!" ordered Deputy Moimtjoy 
to grant a general pardon in Munster. 

But instead of that, the most horrid massacres took 
place; and in order thereto a final extermination of the 
people was attempted by burning their corn. And Mr. 
Morrison says, that sir Arthur Chichester, sir Richard 
Morrison and other commanders, witnessed a most horrid 
spectacle of three children feeding on the flesh of their dead 
mother! with other facts even more shocking. And the 
Deputy and Council informed the Lords in England, by 
letter, that they were credibly informed, that in the space 
of three months, there had been above three thousand 
Starved in Tyrone alone! f 

Morrison also says, "that no spectacle was more com- 
mon in the ditches of towns, and especially in wasted coun- 
tries, than to see multitudes of those poor people dead, 
with their mouths all coloured green, by eating nettles, 
docks, and all things they could rend above ground." 
It would appear that the famine created by lord dive and 
the English in India, was nothing so terrible as this. 

It is curious to see how the English historians blind 
themselves upon these subjects. I do not merely speak of 
writers, such as sir Richard Musgrave, whose absurdities 
defeat their own purpose. The Irish owe some obligation 
to the government that pays such historians to write 
against them. But it Is incredible that a Scotch histo- 
rian, liberal, enlightened and learned, such as Laing, 
should not have shaken off such antiquated prejudices. 
And that he should at the same time that he accuses, With 

t Com, Journals? vol. 1. 



9PS MEMOIRS 0* 

becoming spirit, the cruelties and massacres committed by 
the English in his own country, be guilty of the incon- 
sistency of justifying the same crimes when committed up- 
on the Irish* He has drawn a picture of the massacres by 
the army of O'Neil, with all the glowing colours of a poet, 
and yet has neither cited time, place or person. He has 
contradicted the most circumstantial, correct and authen- 
tic Irish historians, upon no better authority than certain 
manuscripts in Trinity College, of all other things tbe 
most suspicious, as this university was endowed with the 
very confiscations that took place. These manuscripts 
are moreover the same from which Temple derived his 
information, when he says, "that hundreds of the ghosts 
of Protestants that were drowned by the rebels at Portna- 
down bridge, were seen in the river, bolt upright, and 
were heard to cry out for revenge on these rebels." "One 
of these ghosts," says he, "was seen with hands lifted up, 
and standing from the 29th of December to the latter end 
of the following lent/' A principal deposition was by 
Maxwell, bishop of Kilmore, whose credit is principally 
relied on. He has described the different postures and 
gestures of the ghosts, "as sometimes having been seen 
by day and night, walking upon the river; sometimes 
brandishing their naked swords; sometimes singing psalms, 
and at other times shrieking in a most fearful and hideous 
manner." He adds, "that he never so much as heard 
any man doubt the truth thereof;" but he was candid 
enough to say, "he obliged no man's faith, in regard he 
saw them not with his own eyes; otherwise he had as much 
certainty as could morally be required of such matters."! 

t Borlase Hist of the Irish Rebellion, Ap. fol. 392. Surely 
Mr. Laing is too wise tc believe in ghosts! 



VMiHAM SAMPSON. SO 9 

One word more, and I shall have wound up the history 
of the Popery code. 

In the reign of George I. (A. D. 1723) heads of a bill 
were framed for explaining* and amending the act to pre- 
vail the growth of Popery, into which was introduced a 
clause for the castration of all the Irish priests, and pre- 
sented on the 15th of November, 1724, to the lord lieuten- 
ant, by the commons, at the castle, who most earnestly 
requested his grace to recommend the same in the most 
effectual manner to his majesty, humbly hoping from his 
majesty's goodness and his grace's zeal for his service, 
and the Protestant interest of the kingdom, that the same 
might be passed into a law. 

It was said to have been owing to the interposition of 
Cardinal Fuelry, and his interest with Mr. Walpole, that 
this bill, which was transmitted with such recommenda- 
tion to England, was there thrown out. The duke of 
Grafton (lord lieutenant) condoled with the Irish parlia- 
ment upon the loss of their favorite bill; apologized for its 
rejection, upon the ground that it was brought forward too 
late in the session, and recommended a more vigorous ex- 
ecution of the laws against the growing evil. 

I believe you will be now convinced, that the history of 
the universe contains nothing more atrocious than the per- 
secutions of the Irish by the English, nothing more repug- 
nant to civilization, nothing more base or more flagitious^ 
nothing more blasphemous or more profane, bidding a 
hold defiance to every attribute by which the Creator has 
distinguished the human species from the ravening beasts 
of prey. 

With this remark I shall close my letter. I have 
snatched from repose and from my daily occupations, the 



310 , MEMOIRS OY 

hours devoted to this task. The night is nearly wasted, 
the historic muse begins to droop her wing, and sleep sits 
heavy, heavy on her votary's eye-lids. Good night. 



IETTER XXXV. 



Theobald Wolf tone — Of my own Crimes — Of the Crimes 
of the Irish Rebels — Union of Ireland with England—- 
Irishmen with Irishmen, 



FOUR fifths of the Irish people being now an- 
nulled, it can be of little importance what the other fifth 
may do. Still more absurd do their actions appear when 
we see them divided into religious and political feuds, 
scarcely less rancorous against each other than they had 
all been against the ill-fated Catholics. 

The dissenters in their zeal to proscribe their country- 
men, had gulphed down the sacramental test with the bill 
of discovery, and found themselves dupes of their own bigot- 
ry, and excluded from every honorable privilege, and eve- 
ry office of trust or emolument, civil or military. They 
found themselves oppressed with tythes for the payment of 
the Hierarchy; and obliged to contribute out of what re- 
mained for the support of their own clergy. They clam- 
ored, they remonstrated, they resisted in vain. They 
were said to be a stiff-necked faction "whom no king could 
govern, nor no god could please." It was said, and I was 
told by my nurse, that they were black in the mouth. 
They were ridiculed and reviled, and would probably havfe 



WILLIAM SAMPSON. 311 

been Gurmonded, but that the fear and hatred of the Cathov 
lies threw a kind of protection over them. It is not my in- 
tention to state all the arts of envy, hatred and malice, 
which distinguished these latter times. Besides I was 
once sworn to be true to the loins of the Princess Sophia of 
Hanover, and I will be true to them. Whoever wants the 
history of the succeeding reigns, will find it in the nick- 
names of the times; Whig, Tory, High- church, Low -church? 
High-flyer, Leveller, October-club, Church and State, Pro- 
testant-ascendancy, and a hundred others insignificant 
enough to be forgotten, but ridiculous enough to be remem- 
bered. The parliament was a market where men sold 
themselves and their country to servitude; and the com- 
modities by which this slave-trade was carried on, were 
places, pensions and peerages; the staple was the people's 
misery; the tactic only was changed. To confiscations 
had succeeded taxes, and to violence corruption; and as to 
religion, there were besides the great politico-rcligioiis 
sects, so many subdivisions, that it seemed, to use the 
words of the witty author of Hudibras, 

"As if religion was intended 

"For nothing else but to be mended.*' 

However, commerce, printing, anft the universal growth 
of reason and philosophy, had opened the way to nobler 
ideas. The American revolution had reduced the theories 
of the great philosophers of England, France and other 
countries, into practice; and persecutors began to find 
themselves surprised like owta overtaken by the day. 
Something I might say of the; Irish volunteers, not for 
their resistance to England, fofr that was not much; but for 
this, that they did make some honorable offers of concilia- 



312 MEMOIRS OJE" 

lion to their Catholic brethren, I might say much of tlic 
unrivalled eloquence of so many Irish orators, at whose 
head I should place the sublime Burke, and the inimitable 
Sheridan; but that there was in every one of them some- 
thing short of the true patriot; something tending to ex- 
clusion or party. 

At length, however, a young man appeared, whose clear 
and comprehensive mind, seized at one view, the whole 
range of this wide field of disorder and strife; develloped 
the cause, and proposed the remedy for the maladies of his 
long suffering country. 



Theobald Wolfe Tone 

Was bom June 20, 1763. His grand-father was a Pro- 
testant freeholder in the county of Kildare; his father a 
coach-maker in Dublin. His infancy gave promise of 
such talents, that the cultivation of his mind was consider- 
ed the best fortune his parents could bestow. 

He studied in the university of Dublin, where he was 
early and eminently distinguislied; in the Historical Socie- 
ty lie twice carried off the prize of oratory, once that of 
history; and the speech he delivered from the chair, when 
auditor, was deemed the most finished on the records of 
the society. 

During his attendance on the inns of court in London, 
he had opportunities of comparing the state of the English 
nation with that of his own; of perceiving all the advan- 
tages of a national, and the degradation of a colonial gov- 
ernment; and there imbibed that principle which governed 



WtLLIAM SAMfSOtf. %X£ 

him through the remainder of his life; and to which his life 
was at length a sacrifice. 

In the year 1790, on his return from the temple, he 
wrote his first pamphlet, under the signature of an Irish 
Whig, where he thus declared his principles: "J am no 
occasional Whig; I am no constitutional tory; I am addicted 
to no party but the party of the nation" 

This work was re-published by the Northern Whig 
Club, and read with great avidity; and the writer was 
called upon to avow himself; which he did, and became a 
member of that body. 

He was complimented also by the whigs of Dublin. 
They proposed putting him in parliament, and Mr. George 
Ponsonby employed him professionally on his election and 
petition. 

In the same year he wrote, "an enquiry, how far Ireland 
is bound to support England in the approaching war," 
wherein he openly broached his favorite question of separa- 
tion; and in 1791, the Argument on behalf of tlie Catholics; 
a work of extraordinary merit. 

It is remarkable, that at that time he was scarcely ac- 
quainted with any one Catholic, so great was the separa- 
tion which barbarous institutions had created between men 
of the same nation, formed by nature to befriend and love 
each other. 

The Catholics, struck with admiration at thi,s noble and 
disinterested effort of a stranger, repaid him by the best 
compliment in their power to bestow; he was invited to 
become secretary to their committee, with a salary of 
two hundred pounds, which he accepted. 

He was entrusted to draw up their petition; a mark of 
liberal distinction, and honorable to the Catholic body, »$ 



314 MEMOIRS OF 

there were not wanting amongst themselves men of tran- 
scendant talents; and he accompanied their delegates when 
they presented it to the king. 

The Catholic convention voted him their thanks, a gold 
medal, and fifteen hundred pounds! 

Being so honorably identified with the great body of 
his countrymen, his next efforts were directed to the bring- 
ing about a union between the Catholics and Dissenters of 
the North. In this he was seconded by the enlightened of 
both parties, and succeeded to the extent of his wishes. 

The favorite project of the Dissenters was parliamenta- 
ry reform; that of the Catholics, naturally, their own 
emancipation. He rallied them both upon the wicked ab- 
surdity of their past dissentions; upon the happy prospects 
of future union; shewing, that the restoration of the Cath- 
olics to the elective franchise, was the best security for 
parliamentary reform, and how insignificant all reform 
must be, which excluded four fifths of a nation! 

In 1795, lie again accompanied the delegates with their 
petition on the subject of the recall of lord Fitz-William; 
and when he resigned his office of secretary to retire to 
America, the society voted him their thanks, with a fur- 
ther compliment of three hundred pounds for services which 
they said, "no consideration could over-rate, nor no re- 
muneration over-pay." 

The remainder of his political life cannot be better un- 
derstood, than by reading his speech to the court-martial, 
met to pass judgment on his life. C^PP- No. IIL dready 
referred to.) At the time he withdrew from Ireland, I was 
but little concerned in politics, but admired him for the 
brilliancy and great variety of his conversation, the gay 
and social cast of his disposition. I loved him more be- 



WIIXIAM SAMPSON. 5 15 

cause I thought him an honest man; and although it lias 
been his fate to suffer as a traitor, I have not changed my 
mind. And after the hideous treasons we have just passed 
in review, it is grateful to find one treason at last founded 
upon principles of Christian charity, philosophy and rea- 
son. Tone was the founder of that union amongst "IHsh- 
men of every religious persuasion" first adopted in Belfast, 
f and afterwards throughout the kingdom, and in opposition 
to which, the governing faction set up the principles of a 
plundering mob, called "peep-of -day-boys" since called 
for more distinction "Orangemen" and raised to such a 
pre-eminence, that they now govern the councils in Eng- 
land and the conscience of the king, by the stile and title 
of "no Popery," But when upon the altar of Union and 
reconciliation were offered up the lives of the most virtuous 
Irishmen of "all religious persuasions/ 9 and that altar was 
cemented with their comingled blood, there was a trophy 
erected to the memory of Tone, more durable than brass 
or marble, and which neither terror, corruption, nor time 
itself, can shake."f 

t So true it is, that no religious party was excluded from 
this Union, that the established church furnished the greatest 
proportion of those victims with whom government broke 
faith, and who were secluded in the dungeons of Fort George; 
and of twenty that were there, four only were Catholics; 
so little was this rebellion a war of Popery. 



S1G Memoirs o> 



Of my own Crimea 

Hurried as I am, I cannot at tins time give you a 
history of the late rebellion. The progress of the United 
Irishman you will find in the pieces of Irish history^ 
given by those who had better means of knowing it; for I 
was long, very long, in taking any part, and never much 
in any secret. 

Being of the favored cast, and far from having any 
personal griefs, the road to advancement on the contrary 
very open to me, I could have no motive but that of com- 
passion for my country. I never was inclined to political 
contention; and it required strong conviction to move me- 
to sedition. But there are moments, when to be passive, 
is to be criminal; as when we see a murder committed be- 
fore our eyes, and do not stretch our hand. The griefs of 
Irishmen are undeniable; but when torture and every other 
enormity was superadded to those wrongs, the voice of a 
nation and the laws of God set openly at defiance, I asked 
myself by what tie I was bound to submit? for I had not 
sworn allegiance to the Prince of Darkness. 

You ask me what were the crimes chiefly imputed to me? 
I will answer to the best of my knowledge and with truth; 
some writings of mine first gave offence. In 1796 I pre- 
dicted, in a pamphlet called Advice to the Rich, the union 
with England, as it afterwards happened; and endeavored 
to shew, that the government were stimulating the nation 
to rebellion for that end. I was also, at the time I was 
arrested, engaged to write a history of the transactions of 
the day. 

I have lately searched through all the reports, resohr- 



WILLIAM SAMPSON, SIT 

tions and official documents of the times, and can find men- 
tion of my name but on two occasions. The one 3 when it 
was a question of my acquaintance with Mr. Grattan; but 
at that time Mr. Grattan was in disgrace with his present 
friends, a:id it was an honor to be acquainted with him, 
for he was acting well. The next crime was having re- 
ceived seventy-Jive guineas for the defence of United Irish- 
men. This circumstance deserves a word or two. That 
very seventy-Jive guineas which I dearly earned, I receiv- 
ed at Down-Patrick, in 1 797. Mr. Curran was specially 
retained for the same defences. We were but two. The 
judges, for more dispatch,, tried the prisoners in both the 
civil and criminal court; and lest we should be insufficient 
for t\ie duty we had undertaken, I gave one half of my fee 
to Mr. Dobbs, and the other to Sergeant Ball, to engage 
them to assist us. This may be a crime to warrant the 
incarceration of an Irishman in his own country; but I am 
now in a country and member of a bar, by whom I shall 
not be worse looked upon for having done an act of 
charity. 

Such are the answers which Irishmen can return to the 
virulent malice of their enemies. When any of mine shall 
dare to accuse me of any other crime, I pledge myself to 
give as full an answer. And this besides I dare affirm, 
that although now an exile, were the terror for one day 
suspended in my country, and the voices of my country- 
men freely ta-ken, nine tenths, would vote for my recalL 



318 MEMOIRS Of 



Of the Crimes of the Irish Rebzls. 






To say that the rebels never committed any crimes, 
would be deservedly to lose my credit for veracity. I can 
only say I never saw them; but I saw and felt bitterly 
those committed by their enemies. And I believe there 
was no crime or cruelty which they could perpetrate, for 
which they had not ready precedents in the Irish statute 
books, the records of their history, and the memorable 
examples of their own times. They had no need to hold a 
parliament; it was but to substitute the word English for 
Irish, and Protestant for Catholic, and they had the sanc- 
tion of kings, lords and commons, for every possible enor- 
mity. Would they burn the castle of the lord? He had 
taught them by burning the cottage of the peasant. Would 
they murder the innocent? Gracious Heaven! how many 
pointed authorities could they not find in the murder of 
those they adored? Would they torture? They found 
irons, scourges, pickets, and pitch-caps, amongst the bag- 
gage of their enemies. Would they kidnap? It was but to 
empty the dungeons and prison-ships, let out their friends 
and put their persecutors in. * Would they exact of men to 
change their religion? It was but enforcing the acts of 
conformity and uniformity. Was there a massacre at Scul- 
labogue? Was there none, after promise of quarter, and 
therefore more infamous, at the Curragh of Kildare? 
Would they put their enemies out of the protection of the 
law, had not their enemies already put them out of the 
king's peace? Would they disarm them, had they not the 
gun-powder bill? Would they deny them the right of 
petitioning for mercy, had they not the contention UU? 



WIIXIAM SAMPSON. 319 

Would they depopulate a province, had they not the exam- 
ple of Carhampton? Would they make men "tamer 
than gelt cats," had they not that atrocious and insolent 
denunciation of the Chancellor, Lord Clare, to sanction 
them?f Would they half-hang them, had they not a 
thousand examples? Would they execute them hy torch- 
light, had they not the acts of the grand-jurors of Louth? 
Would they violate their women, had they not the honor 
of their own wives and daughters crying vengeance in 
their ears? Would they employ against them the agency 
of informers and spies, the scum and refuge of the creation, 
had they not Armstrong, Reijnolds, Hughes, Sirr, Bands, 
Swan, Newell, Murdoch, Button and O'Brian, and a myr- 
iad besides? Would they confiscate their estates, were 
those estates not plundered from themselves? Would they 
commit the power of life and death over their persons to 
the meanest and most ignorant of mankind, were not 
foreign mercenaries already justices of peace?\ Could 
there be a crime invented or named for which they had no 
precedent? And briefly, what had they more to do than 
open the statute book and read the acts of indemnity for 
these applauded deeds of "ardent loyalty and vigor beyond 
the law?" I will then only ask this one question: was 
that precept good which God revealed to man, to 4i do unto 
others as they would it should be done unto them?" Let 
us then learn to abhor all crimes alike. Let us not cant 
like hypocrites on one side, and be obdurate as devils on 

t A remarkable circumstance is, that this Chancellor, by 
the kick of a horse, suffered a privation similar to that with 
which he threatened his countrymen, and died in consequence. 

$ To so great a length was this wonderful abuse carried on, 
that lord Cornwallis issued an order, that they should not, in 
future, act as JUSTICES, until they were of age, 



32JD MEMOIR* OF 

the other. Let us hasten to do away unjust calumnies, 
which serve to provoke, but never to reform. Let men be 
impartial, that they may enjoy peace. Let those who 
have been cruel, by future acts of liberal justice and un- 
feigned contrition, wipe away, if it yet be possible, the 
stings of deadly injury. The present unnatural order of 
human things cannot endure. The delirium of antipJriloso 
phy, and the fever of antipdtriotism, cannot long be sus- 
tained* Already the sneer of the sycophant, and sauciness 
of the protected jackanapes, and the insolence of the fool, 
begin to "stink in the nostrils of men." Out of the ca- 
lamities of mankind, a new order must arise. Let us 
raise our thoughts to the dignity of such an sera, and 
cease to be obstinate in unworthiness; and let those whose 
ambition aims at distinction, seek it in the furtherance of 
human liberty and the welfare of their species. 

But to return. Whether the rebels did act as cruelly as 
their adversaries, let lord Kingsborough answer; he was 
in their hands, and he was released, as were other men of 
no less power and note, who had exhausted their imagina- 
tion in devising and executing tortures. 

At the close of the appendix, you will find a Dew instances 
of the atrocities committed upon the Irish; from which you 
may faintly conceive the universal misery of a country 
wheje such deeds were without numher. 



Summary. 

Thus for six hundred years and more, have we seen 
our country exposed to never ceasing torments, and strugv v 
gling against oppressions as cruel as absurd. 



WIIXIAM SAMPSOTC. 321 

We have seen, that it was not, as the ignorant imagine, 
or the crafty affect to think, in the fortuitous accidents of 
the times, that its late troubles had their origin. 

It was a chronic malady, and the agitations of our days 
were but its symptoms. The quack may assume importance 
from the seeming cure, but the disease still burns like a 
covered fire. 

All nations have had their civil dissentions and their 
wars; but Ireland has groaned unremittingly under the 
blighting and corrupting influence of foreign and jealous 
domination. 

Her fruitful soil has been laid waste with fire and sword, 
confiscated to the profit of adventurers and plunderers, 
and much of it (a seeming paradox) three times confis- 
cated, first in the hands of its ancient and lawful owners, 
and then in those of the confiscators themselves. 

We have seen that country, formed by nature's hand for 
happiness, prosperity and universal commerce, afflicted 
with misery, beggary and bondage; her native inhabitants 
removed from the soil which their ancestors once cultivat- 
ed, that animals might be raised to feed a British navy, 
the enemy of their commerce and of the world's repose; or 
to nourish India planters, not an ounce of whose produce hi 
return they could import in ships of their own nation. 

The very fleeces of the flocks they fed, made prize to the 
cupidity of British manufacturers; to whose selfish princi- 
ples the Irish manufactures have been ever sacrificed. 
And on those provisions, raised at the expense of human 
existence, and exported from a country where the people 
starve, within the space of forty years, twenty-three em- 
bargoes were laid, to favor the exclusive avarice of Lea,d? 

nr 



32& MEMOIRS OF 

enhall contractors; and the fortunes of thousands thereby 
often ruined in a day. 

From the stinted .revenues of this wretched country, mil- 
lions drained annually to supply the luxuries of absentees, 
the most malignant of our enemies, revilers, and vitupera- 
tors. 

A place and pension list of an extravagance so gigantic, 
filled by such characters (from the German Prince, down 
to the servile satelite of St. James') that the Livre Rouge 
of Versailles compared to it, would blush a still deeper 
red at its own paltry insignificance! 

A people, victims of rapacity, naked, poor, and hungry, 
deprived of education, robbed of their liberty and natural 
rights, who lay them down in weariness, and rise but to 
new toils! 

A debt which, in the short period of the last twenty-four 
years, has increased from two to sixty millions sterling' 
in the contemplation of which the Irish have but one senti- 
ment of consolation, that in their insolvency they are se- 
cure. And that the prodigal, for whose use it has been 
raised, must answer for it with his own, and God knows 
how! 



Union of Ireland with England — Irishmen with Irishmen* 

After so many ages of civil war and carnage, how 
lovely to the ear sounds the hallowed name of Union; but 
not that union which binds the slave to his master, the 
sufferer to his tormentor, the wretch to Ids oppressor. 
Not that union formed by a parliament the scourge and 



WIIXIAM SAMPSON, 323 

execration of their own country, the scorn and derision of 
the minister who bought them like slaves, and jeeringly 
pretend to have bought their country with them. Not that 
union made by those "lives and fortune's men," who had 
pledged themselves so sacredly to God and to their country, 
by tests, resolutions and oaths, to resist every innovation 
whatsoever in the constitution of their country, and with 
those declarations, in months, had ruthlessly dragged their 
tortured countrymen to the scaffold and the gibbet. 

Think it not then, Englishmen, that because our dwel- 
lings are consumed by fire, and our bodies lacerated with 
instruments of torture, that we are therefore united to you. 

It is not because we have been in the damp and cheer- 
less abyses of the vaulted dungeons, or worn out joyless 
seasons in the filthy holds of prison-ships and tenders, that 
we are united to you. 

It is not because insult and ignominy have defiled the 
purity of our habitations, and that scarce a virtuous fami- 
ly but has its beloved victim to deplore, that we should be 
united to you. 

It is not because you have corrupted our parliament 
with two millions sterling, bribed our aristocracy, and 
dragooned our people, that we are united to you. 

It is not because you have lavished the treasures, merci- 
lessly wrung from the hands of suffering wretchedness, with 
wanton prodigality upon panders, hangmen and informers, 
that we are united to you. 

It is not because you have trafficked with the Word of 
God, and treacherously inflamed the ignorant to bigotry, 
and the bigot to atrocity, seeking to excite amongst us 
every unkind and wicked passion of the soul, that we are 
now united to you. 



S£4 MEMOIRS OF 

It is not because stifling enquiry, refusing evidence, you 
mock us with the ghastly forms of murdered law, and mas- 
sacre us iu defiance of its very forms, that we are united to 
you. 

It is not because usurping every organ of the : blic 
voice., you have, through a host of hirelings, filled the uni- 
verse with your injurious ribaldry, covering your own 
cruel tics and faithbreakings with the villain's argui ^ent 
of necessity, or the prostituted name of Justice, that we are 
united to you. 

It is not because, like the devoted victims of the auio da 
fe, you have blackened and disfigured us, lest sympathy or 
compassion should any where console us; exaggerated 
whatever vices we may have, and which we owe alone to 
your corrupting influence, and scoffed at the virtues that 
adorn us, that we are united to you. 

It is not because every man, most honored and beloved 
amongst us, has been ruined and immolated; and every 
one most odious amongst us raised to power and office, 
that we are united to you. 

Believe me, those arts, but too successful heretofore, 
will not long suffice. The blighting shade which you had 
cast upon us, is hourly dissipating. The manifest con- 
viction of crimes, at which human nature shudders, hangs 
over your own heads! You are not now at war with us 
alone, but with the universe. Our cause already brightens 
through the clouds of calumny and terror. The virtuous 
and the generous of your own country are daily undeceiv- 
ed, and will with cordiality atone for the wrongs they have 
often ignorantly and innocently done us. Foreign nations 
have felt the perfidy of your alliance, the impotence of your 
protection, the sting of your pride! Amongst them alrea- 



WIIXIAM SAMPSON". 325 

dy docs our suffering cause find favor! Aud though we do 
wot lift a hand against you, the workings of humanity, no 
longer biassed nor perverted, will succour the unfortunate; 
and the moral force of opinion, stronger than hosts in ar- 
mor, will mine your cruel empire and palsy your misused 
power. Those of us who, to gain your favor, have be- 
trayed their country, will sink into contempt with the 
world, with you and with themselves. The trappings and 
mock honors with which you have invested them, like 
splendid liveries, will mark their servile state; nor shall 
th ; wages of their iniquities protect them from due infamy. 
In vain then, will you call those, dear to the cause of vir- 
tue and honored in their country, traitors! An impartial 
generation will weigh us against each other. You will be 
no longer our judges and accusers. Stripped of those 
casual honors and ill-earned distinctions which had been 
ours, had we not scorned to win them by corruption, we 
shall be measured with one measure. Then will it be 
seen whose stature and proportions are most goodly, 
whose morals are most pure, whose reason most enlight- 
ened, whose courage most true. If you be found then to 
excel us, it will be in vice and not in virtue, in meanness, 
not in dignity. And no longer will the love of country, 
which in all climes and ages has been honored as the first 
of virtues, be held a crime in Irishmen alone. 

The time may come aud may he near at hand, when you 
may find it necessary once again to call on us to take up 
arms and fight your battles. 

For whom, for what should Irishmen now fight? Why 
should the fallen he proud? Why should the slave be loftier 
than his state? Against whom should he shake his chains 
but him that hung them on him? Go you who wear the 



$26 MEMOIRS OF 

spoils, fight for your booty! He is the lawful prize to him 
ih at wins the battle. 

Who is enemy to Irishmen? A tyrant and a despot 
Is it indeed? If so, we have not far to seek our enemy. 

Who made the mighty despot? It was you dull minis- 
ters. You strewed his paths with flowers, tendered the 
ladder to his young ambition, and were his humble foot- 
stools. He was most mighty in your littleness. He had one 
enemy, and only one, that could withstand him. That 
was Liberty! That liberty both you and he combined 
to stifle; but both must fall before it. 

You scorned her alliance. You frighted her from off 
the very earth. Your pestilential breath empoisoned her. 
You scoffed and railed at her so wondrous wittily, that 
though you died for it you could not win her back again. 
But when you saw your enemy on high, and seated in the 
throne of mortal glory, and all the universe cry, "Jiail 
great Caesar!' 9 amazed and stupified at yom* own folly, 
but pertinacious still in wickedness, you thought to cure 
your mischiefs by new crimes. Must we too share in your 
inglorious warfare, infernal machinations, and your plots? 
Must we, who would not take your ignominious lives by 
undue means, become assassins now to do you service? 
Must we now war against the harmless Danes? Must we 
bring fire and sword into that new and happy country 
where all our hopes and half our kindred dwell? 

Are there no other kings to coalesce with? Have you 
then ruined all? Why then stand forth and fight your 
battles singly, and let the Irish rest in sullen peace? If 
liberty be truly such a jest as you have taught the world 
to think it is; if it be odious, felony and treason, why would 
you bid us now to f»ght for liberty? If we must serve a 



despot, let it be a splendid one and we shall be less galled. 
The wretched bondsman cannot lose by changing. To 
him the mightiest master is the best. If we must be hum- 
bled, it is better still to fall before the Liox than the 
"Wolf. Who is now the wolf? 

But Irishmen are generous, brave and loyal. They 
will forgive their wrongs, forget your insults and march 
against the invader. Be it so. But who is this invader? 
Comes he with racks and scourges to scatter reeking 
gibbets through our land, to pike our heads as monuments 
of scorn? Comes he with full battalions of informers? 
Does he invite men to lay down their arms, and then break 
faith with them and murder them? Will he deflower our 
wives and burn our houses? Beware, that we mistake not 
friend for foe. But no! we know him by his warlike 
standards. He bears the picket, pitch-cap and the fire- 
brand. His music is, the cry of women's grief; that's our 
invader, that our mortal enemy; look to him well, he'll 
rob us of our Liberty. 

But e'er we fight, go call at Edward's tomb,f cry in 
his ears, bid him who sleeps to wake, bid him to rise and 
figkt his enemies. Brave as the lion, gentler than the 
lamb, the sparkling jewel of an ancient house, the noblest 
blood of any in our land, and nobler than your king's, 
ran through his veins. He hears you not; he sleeps to 
<wake no more! Of all his country, and of all he owned, 
there rests no more to him than the cold grave he lies in! 

Oh gallant, gallant Edward, fallen in the flower of 
youth and pride of manly beauty; had you lived to see 



f Lord Edward Fitzgerald, brother to the late Duke oi 
Lcinster. 



32S MEMOIRS 01? 

your country free, the proudest conqueror that wears & 
sword dared not invade it. 

Go call his children by their noble sire to come and 
fight the battles of their country. AVhat sire? what coun- 
try? They have no father, for you murdered him! They 
have no country but the green sod that rests upon his 
grave! You robbed their guiltless infancy, tainted their, 
rnnocent blood, plundered their harmless cradles! 

Go then to Crosby's tomb!f His only crime was, that* 
he was beloved. Call Colclough, Esmond, Grogan, Har- 
vey, still nobler in their virtues than in their station and 
their ancient heritage. 

Call whole devoted families, whom you have swept from 
off the face of their native soil; they cannot fail but rise 
and stand for you. 

The name of Feeling will be precious to you. Call 
those two brothers, whose hearts in life were joined, in 
death united, hung on one gibbet, beheaded with one axe. 
Bid the two Shearses rise and fight for you, and die again 
together in their country's cause; they will befriend you. 

There were two brother Tones, no ordinary souls. Bid 
them rise too from out their common grave and fight to- 
gether for you. He that first led his counirymen to union, 
will lead them now to victory. 

Call on the multitude of reverend men of all the various 
sects of Christian faith, whom you have murdered. Call 
on them by the sacred office of their priesthood, and by 
that God, whose holy word they taught, to pray for you. 
But if they sleep too sound, or will not hearken, go to the 

t Sir Edward Crosby, Bart. 



WILLIAM SAMPSONS 3,29 

flocks they led, and they will follow you with many and 
many a blessing. 

Call from the earth where Porter's ashes lie, the gentle 
emanations of his genius, the lueid heams of mild philoso- 
phy; you want such lights; they will be very serviceable, 

Go to Belfast, and parley with the heads you there im- 
paled, those silent witnesses of your humanity, who gave 
to all that looked askance and terrified upon them, such 
moving lessons of your mild persuasion as won all hearts 
to love you;' those tongueless monitors were passing elo- 
quent; bid them now speak for you; they will recruit you 
soldiers that will honor you and draw their willing swords 
to fight your battles. 

Call upon Russel, whose once gentle heart you turned 
to desperate madness, and slew him like a ruffian. 

Invoke the crowd of brave and gallant victims, whom 
"memory cannot count, nor choice select," j and you will 
have an army strong in numbers, stronger in well tried 
courage and in Union. 

But if this cannot be, and victory declares against your 
ruffian banners, remember Orr! He was the first that 
gave his life to Union; Emmet the last that sealed it 
with his blood. Their parting words may teach you how 
to die! 

JBut no, you will not, dare not, die like them? You 
will betray your country first an hundred times; and rath 
cr than meet death as men should do, lay at the con- 



t See the Answer of Mrs. Tone to the Hibernian Provident 
Society, on receiving a medallion presented by them in honor 
of her husband, where this sentiment is elegantly conveyed. 
fJSse Afifiendix JVo. XVI.) 

s s 



3*30 MEMOIRS OS 

queror's feet your city's charter and your monarch's 
crown.f 



LETTER XXXVI. 

The Irish Emigrant, 

BORN in the country of affliction; his days were 
days of sorrow. He tilled the soil of his fathers, and was 
an alien in their land He tasted not of the fruits which 
grew hy the sweat of his brow. He fed a foreign land- 
lord, whose face he never saw, and a minister of the gos- 
pel, whose name he hardly knew; an unfeeling bailiff was 
his tyrant, and the tax-gatherer his oppressox\ Hunted 
by unrighteous magistrates, and punished by unjust 
judges. The soldier devoured his substance and laughed 
his complaints to scorn. He toiled the hopeless day, and 
at night lay down in weariness. Yet noble he was of 
heart, though his estate was lowly. His cottage was open 
to the poor. He brake his children's bread, and ate of it 
sparingly, that the hungry might have share. He wel- 
comed the benighted traveller, and rose with the stars of 
the morning to put him on his way. But his soul repined 
within him, and he sought relief in change. He had 
heard of a land where the poor were in peace, and the 
labourer thought worthy of his hire, where the blood of 
his fathers had purchased an asylum. He leads the aged 

t Jeffries and Kirk were as treacherous as they were atro- 
cious 



WILLIAM SAMPSON". 331 

parent whom love grappled to his Heart. He bears his 
infants in his arms. His wife folk wed his weary steps. 
They escape from the barbarous laws that would make 
their country their prison. They cross the trackless 
ocean, they descry the promised land, and hope brightens 
the prospect to their view; but happiness is not for him. 
The ruthless spirit of persecution pursues him through the 
Waste of the ocean. Shall his foot never find rest, nor his 
heart repose? No! the prowling bird of prey hovers on 
Columbia's coast. Wafted on eagle wings, the British 
pirate comes, ravishes the poor fugitive from the partner 
of his sorrows and the tender pledges of their love. See 
the haggard eyes of a father to whom nature denies a 
tear! a stupid monument of living death. He would inter- 
pose his feeble arm, but it is motionless; he would bid 
adieu, but his voice refuses its office. The prop of his de- 
clining years torn remorselessly from before him, he 
stands like the blasted oak, dead to hope and every earthly 

joy! 

Was it not then enough that this victim of oppression 
had left his native land to the rapacity of its invaders? 
Might he noi have been permitted to seek a shelter in the 
gloom of the wilderness? No! the ruthless spirit of perse- 
cution is not yet sated with his sufferings. The torments 
of one element exhausted, those of another are now pre- 
pared for him. Enslaved to scornful masters, the authors 
of his misery, and forced to fight the battles of those his 
soul abhors. Death, that relieves the wretch, brings no 
relief to him, for he lived not for himself, but for those more 
dear to him than life. Not for himself does he feel the win- 
ter's blast, but for those who are now unprotected, house- 
less and forlorn. Where shall his wife now wander, when 



SM MEMOIRS 0¥ 

maddened with despair? Where shall his father lay h& 
wearied hones? Where shall his innocent babes find food, 
unless the ravens feed them? Oh hard and cruel men! 
Oh worse than hellish fields! may not the poor find pity? 
WTiat's he that now reviles them? beshrew his withered 
heart. 

Oh Stewart! Oh West! children of genius, sons of Co- 
lumbia! where are now your pencils? Will you profane 
the bounteous gifts of nature, in flattering the mighty 
and the great? and withhold a nobler aid to the cause of 
the poor and the afflicted? 



WILLIAM SAMPSON. S3# 



A LETTER 

From New -York, to the Right Honorable 
LORD SPENCER, 

His Britannic Majesty's Principal Secretary of Stated 

POB THE HOME DEPARTMENT'. 



My Lord, 

According to your orders, I was land- 
ed in this city on the 4th of July, 1 806, hy captain Sutton, 
of the Windsor Castle. I was sorry his majesty's minis- 
ters had judged \t unsafe that I should be seen at Halifax, 
as I had need to recruit my health and to reinforce my 
principles. I feared to distress your lordship's humanity 
with the account of my sufferings, or I should have written 
sooner. My first sickness was the Yellow Jaundice, of 
which I nearly died: I was afterwards seized with the 
Rheumatism, and nearly lost my limbs. I am now, thank 
God, in good health and spirits, and shall take every 
means of shewing myself grateful for past favors. 

The day I arrived, they were commemorating their 
Independence, carousing, singing republican songs, drink- 
ing revolutionary toasts, bonfires blazing, cannons firing? 
and Huzzaing tor Liberty!!! 



534 Mfc MOIKS OF 

I was in expectation that the lord mayor would have 
brought the military and fired on them; hut the mayor is 
not a lord; and I was informed he was seen drinking with 
some of the soldiers. They were also making an out-cry 
ahout a Yankee sailor called Pearce, that was killed-off 
by captain Whitby. It is a pity we hadn't them in Ire- 
land, we might have ten thousand of them shot in a day, 
and not a word about them. * 

I would have gone to the barracks myself to inform 
against them; but there was no barrack. The soldiers 
live in their own houses and sleep with their own wives. 
Nay more, they have counting-houses, clerks, ware-houses, 
ships, coaches, country-seats, the like was never seen 
amongst common soldiers. 

I asked if there was no clergyman that was a justice of 
peace, to head the military? They shewed me a bishop, a 
mild, venerable looking old gentleman, that would not 
know which end of a gun to put foremost, fitter to give a 
blessing than to lead a corporal's guard, no vigor, no en- 
ergy. And they say the clergy dont act as justices in 
this country. Indeed the clergy here are not like certain 
clergy, as your lordship shall judge. 

There is not a clergyman of any description in New- 
York, nor as far as I can learn, in all America, that can 
lead a concert, or play upon the fiddle, or that dances or 
manages an assembly, or gets drunk, or rides in at the 
death of a fox, or that wears a ruffled shirt, or sings a 
bawdy song, or keeps a mistress: All they do is to marry 
the young people, christen their children, visit the sick, 
comfort the afflicted, go to church, preach twice or thrice 
on a Sunday, teach the living how to live, and the dying 
how to die; they are pure in their lives, uncorruptible in 



WJUL^M SAMPSON. 335 

their morals, and preach universal love and toleration; 
and what is more unaccountable, tliey have no tythes, and 
they live in the very midst of their congregations. If I 
might be bold to suggest any thing, and it would not be 
counted over-zealous, I could wish tliere was a good book 
written against this abuse of tythes; and I think, my lord, 
that Anacreon Moore would be a very proper person: It 
would be a good means of preventing emigration. 

As to the government; at the head of it is an old coun- 
try philosopher. I wish your lordship could get a sight of 
one of his shoes, with quarters up to his ancles, and tied 
with leather thongs. He has neither chamberlain nor 
vice-chamberlain, groom of the stole nor of the bed-cham- 
ber, master of the ceremonies, nor gentleman-usher of 
the privy-chamber, nor black rod, nor groom, nor page of 
the privy-cnamber, nor page.of the back stairs, nor mes 
senger to his robes, (lie has no robes) nothing but red 
breeches, which are now a jest, and a thread-bare one; no 
laundress for his body-linen, nor starcher, nor necessary- 
woman. He will talk with any body, like the good-na 
tured Yicar of Wakefield. If the stranger talks better 
than him, he is willing to learn; if he talks better, he is 
willing the stranger should profit. He is a simple gentle- 
man every way, and keeps his own conscience and his own, 
accounts; pays his own debts and the nation's debts; and 
has hoarded up eight millions and a half of dollars in the 
treasury. Your lordship will smile at such an oddity. 

We do all we can to shake him, we do all we can to vex 
him, we do all we can to remove him. He is like a wise 
old Dervise. He will not be shaken, he will not be vexed, 
he will not be moved. If he gets up, we say he is too tall. 
If he sits down, we say he is too short. If we think he will 



3$G MEMOIRS t)f 

go to war, we say he is bloody. If we think he is for 
peace, we say he is a coward. If he makes a purchase, 
we say he ought to take it by force. If he will not perse- 
cute, we say he has no energy. If he executes the law, 
we say he is a tyrant. I think, my lord, with great def- 
erence, that a good London quarto might be written and 
thrown at his head. He has no guards nor battle-axes, 
and dodges all alone upon his old horse, from the Pres- 
ident's house to the Capitol. There might be an en- 
graving to shew him hitching his bridle to a peg. The 
stranger in America might write the book; but he need 
not call himself the stranger, it appears clear enough from 
his works. If it could be possible to confine those works 
against emigration to home circulation, it would be better; 
they appear rather ridiculous in this country; for they 
know here, as well as your lordship, that people are the 
riches of a nation. I would humbly recommend a prohibi- 
tion of their exportation. If Mr. Parkinson writes any 
mere, would your lordship have the goodness to let him 
know, that there has been no yellow fever since I came to 
America; but that in return the catadids have created great 
disturbance? A good work against the catadids might pre* 
vent emigration. Tell him, if your lordship pleases, that the 
butter is no better than it was when he was here; and the 
pigs remain unreconciled to the peaches. The timothy 
grass grows straight up, and so does the duck grass — 
apropos, the ducks here go on the water like those of Eng- 
land; but they swim hardest against the stream. Twelve 
barrels of plaister in Massachusetts go as far as a dozen 
m any other state; and'there is but one head upon a stock of 
wheat, and the grass grows rankest in the wet ground. 
A work of this nature may serve to prevent the lovers of 



WIL1IAM SAMPSOK. 35f 

good butter and pork from coming to America* and pre- 
vent emigration. They boil their cabbage in fresh water, 
and throw the water out. 

All the other departments are as ridiculous as the exec- 
tive; and one of his majesty's cream-colouied Hanoverian 
horses has more servants than their Secretary of State. 
They have no lords nor beggars. We must try to have 
beggars. A little work upon that might put tilings in a 
strong light. 

Their judges are without wigs, and their lawyers with- 
out gowns. This might be called bald justice and Minted 
eloquence. 

There is no energy in the execution of the law. One 
constable with a staff will march twenty prisoners. Your 
lordship knows a country where every man has a soldier 
to watch him with a musket. 

The government here makes no sensation. It is round 
about you like the air, and you cannot even feel it. A 
good work might be written upon that to prevent emigra- 
tion, by shewing that the arts of government are not 
known. 

There are very few showmen or mountebanks, a proof 
of a dull plodding people, all being about their own af- 
fairs. This might be stated to prevent idlers from coming. 
But as there is little temptation for that class, it is not 
worth a book. 

They have no decayed nor potwollopping boroughs, 
which render their parliament a stiff machine. Their 
candidates are not chaired, and throw no sixpences among 
the mob. This might be used to prevent the emigration 
of the mob. 

I dont like their little one gun ships of the line. If they 

Tt 



338 MEMOIRS 01 

are so wicked when they are little, what will they be when 
they grow big? 

I believe Decatur to be a dangerous man; I had it from 
the ex-bashaw of Tripoli. And Preble, I fear, is as bad; 
though the bashaw did not tell me so. However, if we 
dont come near them, they can do us no harm. I hope 
your lordship will not count me over-zealous in my re- 
marks, and that they may not be considered altogether un- 
worthy of your lordship's wisdom. Your lordship having 
been first lord of the admiralty is the best judge of gun- 
boats. 

The inventions of this people are becoming every day 
more alarming. They sold their card-making machine 
to the English for twenty thousand pounds sterling! and 
now they say they can make one for fifty guineas. Might 
not some addresses be advisable from the Manchester 
fustian-weavers? 

They have made a Sf eam-Boat to go against wind 
and tide, seven miles in the hour, an alarming circum- 
stance to the coach-making trade. A work might be 
written against the emigration of coach-makers and en- 
titled JVo Steam Boat. 

The burning of Patterson Mills was very fortunate; but 
the Eastern and Southern manufacturers would require to 
be burned. 

It is time the country was taken out of their hands. 
They are committing daily waste upon the woods, and dis- 
figuring the face of nature with villages, turnpikes and 
canals. They are about stopping up two miles and a half 
of sea, which they call the Narrows, though I endeavor 
to persuade them of the advantage of a free passage for his 



WILXIAM SAMPSON. 339 

majesty's ships of war up to this city, and put before their 
eyes the example of Copenhagen. 

That Chesapeake business has burst the bubble, and 
shews that many of those we counted upon here, are Ameri- 
cans in their hearts, and will not do any serious mischief 
to their own country. Their wranglings, I fear, are like 
those of our own whig and torn, and will profit us nothing. 

But there is yet a means left. And if your lordship 
will send me a hundred thousand pounds by the Windsor 
Castle, I shall lose not an instant to set about it. It will, 
I hope, be no objection to my project that it is a new one; 
the more so, as the old ones have not succeeded very wt Mi 
I should glory, my lord, to be the author of a species of 
civil war and discord ijet unattemjjted, and thereby recom- 
mend myself to the honorable consideration of his majes- 
ty's ministers. 

There exists, my lord, in this nation, a latent spark, 
which requires only to be fanned. If this be done with 
address, we shall have a civil war lighted up in this coun- 
try, which will not be easily extinguished; for the contest 
will be between the two sexes. If we once can get them 
into separate camps, and keep the war afoot for sixty 
years, there is an end of the American people. 

The matter is briefly this: The men smoak tobacco. 
The ladies will not be smoaked. They say they do not 
marry nor come into the world to be smoaked with tobacco. 
The men say they did not marry nor come into the world 
to be scolded, and that they will be masters in their own 
houses. They are both in the right, they are both in the 
wrong. Neither is right, nor neither is wrong, according 
as the balance of power can be managed by a cunning 
hand. And under the cover of this smoak, much excellent 



$40 MEMOIRS Otf 

mischief may be done for the service of his majesty; and 
the war, which will be memorable in future history, may 
be called the cigar war, AVe have at once in our hands 
three principal ingredients of civil war; fire, smoak and 
hard words. 

We might coalesce with our magnanimous allies, the 
Squaws, on the western frontiers, and a diversion on the 
Chesapeake would complete the whole. And I should not 
despair of marching a column of ladies, by the next sum- 
mer, into Virginia, and laying the tobacco plantations 
waste with fire and tow. 

One great advantage of my project, your lordship will 
please to observe, is this, that whether it succeed or fail, 
take it at the very worst, supposing it to end as it began, 
in smoak, it would have a result to the full as favorable 
as other projects which have cost old England fifty times 
the sum I ask for. The very smoaking of these ladies 
would be a great point gained; for they have arrived at 
an insolent pitch of beauty; and it will be in vain that 
we should deter the connoisseurs and virtuosi of our do- 
minions from coming over here, by holding out that there 
are no statues nor pictures, if we suffer them to preserve 
such exquisite models of flesh and blood from which god- 
desses, nymphs and graces, may be imitated. A few re- 
fined souls will prefer cheeks of brass and eye-balls of 
stone, to the dimple of nature and sparkling glances of the 
laughter-loving eye. But the mass of mankind will be 
ever vulgar; for them canvas will be too flat and marble 
too hard, and flesh and blood will carry off the prize. 

It is true, my lord, that the same arts are not yet so 
advanced in this country as in those farther gone in cor- 
ruption and luxury. Yet it is mortifying to see the pro- 



W1JXIAM SAMP SOX. 341 

grass the young and fair ones arc daily making in those 
delicate acquirements which give lustre to virtue and em- 
bellish good sense. Those arts which have now the charm 
of novelty and the grace of infancy, cannot fail to improve 
in a soil where living beauty triumphs, where the great 
scenes of majestic nature invite, and where history points 
the eye of the poet, the painter and the sculpior, to the 
Virtues of Washington and the plains of Saratoga and 
York-Town. But one who passes foe having good sense, 
avowed to me some time ago, that he would rather see a 
well-clad and active population, than the finest antique 
groupes of naked fawns and salycs, with a Laxcroni pop- 
ulace. And a thing that has raised great wonder in me is 
this, that some of these fair-haired Dryads of the woods 
have manners more polished than the shining beauties of 
your splendid court. Where they got it, or how they 
came by it I know not; but on the chaste stem of native 
purity they have engrafted the richest fruits of foreign cul- 
tivation. And as the ladies in ail civilized nations will, 
covertly or openly, have the sway, I think these dangerous 
persons ought to be well watched; and I am not indis- 
posed, my lord, to keep an eye upon them, provided I may 
be encouraged by your lordship's approbation. I shall 
not then regret the situation in which it has pleased the 
wisdom of his majesty's councils to have placed me, and I 
shall labor to the end of my life to make a suitable return. 
In this view, I think it right to mention that the young 
ladies have imbibed French principles; some of them can 
express any sentiment, grave or gay, by a motion of the 
head, speak any language with tbeir eyes, and tell an 
affecting story with the points of their toes. Those cotil- 
lions, my lord, arc dangerous innovations. 



MEMOIRS OF 

It is, for the reasons I have mentioned, extremely im- 
portant, that Mr. Weld, and the Anacreontic Poet, should 
write down the American ladies. The kind and frank 
hospitality they received from these unsuspecting fair ones, 
has afforded them an opportunity of taking a noble revenge, 
worthy of their masters. And if the finest genius, like the 
fairest beauty, is to be selected for prostitution, Moorej 
is the man. 

But if this system of detraction be followed up, you will 
do well, my lord, to keep your Englishmen at home. They 
will be very liable, coming over with such notions, to be 
surprised, perhaps put in voluntary chains. It has already 
happened to more than one of my acquaintance, and may 
befal many more. 

There need come no more with toys from Birmingham. 
There is one Langstaff here, that has done them mischief. 
He gives himself out for gouty and sits writing in an el- 
bow-chair. When the fit leaves him he announces it in 
the newspapers, and appoints an hour for his visits; all 
doors are thrown open, and scouts sent out to watch for 
him. He runs about in a yellow coatee; and in the course 
of the morning will have kissed the hand of every pretty 
lady in town. It provokes me to see a little fellow lie in 
a lady's work-basket, and make laughing sport of grave 
men. And it makes me feel more mortified at my own 
growing corjmlence, lest my bulk should be no recommend- 
ation in the eyes of the fair, whose favor is the chief ob* 
ject of my wishes; I shall therefore, before the evil grows 
worse, go immediately to press, be squeezed into the gen- 

t The native patriotism of this delightful poet, since this 
was written, has burst forth in strains that redeem every 
error and cancel every fault. 



WIXLIAM SAMPSON. 343 

teelest form I can, and then pay my respects to the ladies, 
and to your lordship. Meantime 
I have the honor to be, 

With all due gratitude for past favors, 
My Lord, 
Your Lordship's much obliged. 
And very devoted humble servant, 

WILLIAM SAMPSON. 



APPENDIX, 



No. I.— Page 20. 
hvformers Hanged by their Emploijers* 

William Kennedy was prosecuted for being aiding 
a»d assisting to an armed mob. The principal witness 
against him was lieutenant Heppenstal, noted alike for cow- 
ardice and cruelty. It was he who called himself the 
walking-gallows, from his custom of strangling men with 
a rope drawn over his shoulders. To support his testimo- 
ny, a witness named Hyland was produced, who swore that 
he knew the prisoner; but that, by the virtue of his oath, 
he never knew any harm of him. It appeared from the 
cross examination of the walking -gallows, that he haci 
knocked this Hyland down, and drawn a rope very tight 
about his neck, but could get nothing from him. Never- 
theless Hyland was ordered off the tab Je. A bill of indict- 
ment was sent up to the grand jury. *He was tried, con- 
victed and sentenced instanter. 

Under the impression of this terror, the trial of the pris= 
oner, Kennedy, proceeded, and he was foun A guilty, But 
on account of his good character and the pot lute< * nature 
of the evidence, several gentlemen, grand juroiv s an ^ oth- 
ers, presented a petition in his favor, It appeared al?0? 

uu 



34 S APPENDIX. 

that one of the petty jurors, who refused to find him 
guilty, was threatened to be thrown out of the window. 
Kennedy, notwithstanding, was also sentenced to death 
and executed. 

The judge was Toxer, now lord Norbury, the same to 
whom Robert Emmett said in his defence, that if all the 
blood he had shed was collected into one great reservoir, 
he might swim in it. And who, on another trial, uttered 
that inhuman raillery, "that if the person put to death was 
innocent, he was gone to a better world; if guilty, justice 
had been done." 

gyHeppenstal since died of rottenness, at a very early 
period of life. 

O'BRIEN. 

The following short extracts from Mr, Curran's speech 
on the defence of Patrick Finney, are well worth the at- 
tention of the reader, who may be curious to know to what 
necessities a profligate system of oppression against the gen- 
eral interest and feelings of a people leads: 

"Oh honest James O'Brien! honest James O'Brien! 
Let others vainly argue on logical truth and ethical false- 
hood, if I can once fasten him to the ring of perjury, I 
will bait him at it, imitil his testimony shall fail of pro- 
ducing a verdict, although human nature were as vile and 
monstrous in you as she is in Mm 

Shall the horrors which surround the informer; the fe- 
rocity of his countenance, and the terrors of his voice, cast 
such a wide an.d appalling influence, that none dare ap- 
proach and s r ave the victim which he marks for ignominy 
and deaths 

"Are 'you prepared, when O'Brien shall come forward 



APPENDIX. 347 

against 10,000 of your fellow-citizens, to assist him in dig- 
ging the graves, which he has destined to receive them one 
by one? 

"I have heard of assassination by sword, by pistol and 
by dagger, but here is a wretch who would dip the Evan- 
gelists in blood! If he thinks he has not sworn his victim 
to death, he is ready to swear, without mercy and without 
end; but oh! do not, I conjure you, suffer him to take an 
oath! The arm of the murderer should not pollute the 
purity of the gospel; if he will swear, let it be on the 
knife, the proper symbol of his profession! 

"At this moment, even the bold and daring villany of 
O'Brien stood abashed; he saw the eye of Heaven in that 
of an innocent and injured man; perhaps the feeling was 
communicated by a glance from the dock; his heart bore 
testimony to his guilt, and he fled for the same! 

"You find him coiling himself in the scaly circles of his 
cautious perjury, making anticipated battle against any 
one who should appear against him; but you see him sink 
before the proof. 

"He assumes the character of a king's officer, to rob the 
king's people of their money, and afterwards, when their 
property fails him, he seeks to rob them of their lives! . . 

"This cannibal informer, this daemon, O'Brien, greedy 
after human gore, has fifteen other victims in reserve, if 
from your verdict he receives the unhappy man at the bar! 
Fifteen more of your fcllow*citizens are to be tried on his 
evidence! Be you then their saviours; let your verdict 
snatch them from his ravening maw, and interpose between 
yourselves and endless remorse!" ..... 

(Q^This villain was not punished, but was rewarded 
for his manifold services, until he became not merely use- 



&4& APPENDIX. 

less, but dangerous to his masters; then he was hanged 
for a very ordinary murder, namely, for having killed an 
old sick man. (See further, Jlpp* JVo. 9. J 



No. II Page 34. 

Massacres of the Curragh of Kildare and Glenco* 

General Dundas, when at his head-quarters in Naas 
on the 24th of May, received a message from a body of 
the Irisli, that they were willing to surrender their arms* 
provided one Perkins should be liberated from prison* and 
they all permitted to return home in peace. The general, 
after writing to the castle for instructions, ratified the con- 
dition. And a few days after, a large body who had sur- 
rendered their arms, were cut to pieces at Gibbet-Rath, on 
the Curragh. The only pretext which bears any colour of 
truth was, that one of the rebels was foolish enough to 
discharge his gun in the air before he delivered it. This 
was done by lord Jocetyn's fox-hunters, under the orders 
of sir James Duff, who had written that morning to gene- 
ral Lake, that he would make a dreadful example of the 
rebels. No reprimand was ever given nor enquiry made, 
and doubtless the act was much applauded. (See the Rev. 
James Gordon's History of the Rebellion, p. 101; and 
Plowden, vol. 4, p. 341.) 

Having mentioned the massacre of Glenco, it might be 
worth while to remind the reader of that odious crime, 
which has this affinity to that of the Curragh, that both 






APPENDIX. 343 

were executed by treason, and in defiance of that good 
faith which savages respect; and that, in one as in the 
other, the actors were not only unpunished, but preferred. 
That shocking story of Glenco, is thus briefly related by 
an intelligent and unprejudiced writer: — ."A proclamation 
was published in autumn, 1691, which declared that all 
rebels who took the oaths of the government, before the 
first of January ensuing, should be pardoned. All the at- 
tainted chieftains of the Highlands, except M'Donald of 
Glenco, took the oaths before the time prefixed. Upon the 
last day of December, he went to Fort William, and desir- 
ed the oaths to be tendered to him by the governor of the 
fortress, who, as he was not a civil magistrate, refused to 
administer them. M'Donald then .went to Inverary, the 
county town, to take them; but by bad weather was pre- 
vented from reaching it, till the term prescribed by the 
proclamation was elapsed. The sheriff scrupled at first, 
but was prevailed upon at last to receive his allegiance. 
Advantage was taken of M'Donald's not having complied 
literally with the terms of the proclamation, and a warrant 
for proceeding to execution was procured from the king, 
which was signed both above and below with his own hand. 
Sir John Dalrymple, the secretary, gave orders that the 
execution of it should be effectual; and without any previ- 
ous warning. For this purpose, in the month of February, 
two companies went, not as enemies, but as friends, to 
take quarters in the valley of Glenco, where all the clan 
lived. To conceal the intention the better, the soldiers 
were of their own lineage, Highlanders of Argyle's regi- 
ment. They were all received with the rude, but kind hos- 
pitality of the country. They continued in the valley near 
a fortnight; and then in the night-time rose to butcher 



their hosts! Captain Campbell, of Glenlyon, who was mu 
cle to the wife of one of M'Donald's sons, and had supped 
and played cards with M'Donald's family the night before, 
commanded the party. Thirty-eight men were slain. 
The rest would have shared* the same fate, had not the 
alarm been given by one of M'Donalds sons, who over- 
heard one of the soldiers say to another, 'he liked not the 
work; he feared not to fight the M'Donalds in the field, 
but had scarcely courage to kill them in their sleep; but 
that their officers were answerable for the deed, not they/ 
This execution made the deeper impression, because the 
king would not permit any of those who were concerned in 
it to be punished, conscious that in their case his own was 
involved." Sir John Dalrymple's Memoirs, vol. I. p. 21 3, 
Dub. ed* 

"As a mark of his own eagerness to save secretary 
Dalrymple, king William signed the warrant both above 
and below with his own hand. In the night, lieutenant 
Lindsay, with a party of soldiers, called in a friendly 
manner at M'Donald's door; he was instantly admitted. 
M'Donald, as he was rising from his bed to receive his 
guest, was shot dead behind his back with two bullets. 
His wife had already put on her cloaths, but she was 
stripped naked by the soldiers, who tore the rings off her 
fingers with their teeth. The slaughter became general. 
To prevent the pity of the soldiers to their hosts, their 
quarters had been changed the night before; neither age 
nor infirmity was spared. Some women in defending their 
children were killed. Boys imploring mercy were shot by 
officers on whose knees they hung. In one place nine 
persons, as they sat enjoying themselves at table, were shot 
$ead bv the soldiers. The assassins are even said to have 



APPENDIX. 35| 

made a sport of death. At Inveriggen, in Campbell's own 
quarters, nine men were first bound by the soldiers, then 
shot at intervals, one by one. Several who fled to the 
mountains, perished by famine and the inclemency of the 
season. Those who escaped owed their lives to a tem- 
pestuous night. Lieutenant-colonel Hamilton, who had 
the charge of the execution from Dalrymple, was on his 
march with four hundred men, to occupy all the passes 
which led from the valley of Glenco, he was obliged to 
stop by the severity of the weather, which proved the 
safety of the unfortunate tribe. He entered the valley 
the next day; he laid all the houses in ashes, and carried 
away all the cattle and spoil, which were divided among 
the officers and soldiers." Macpherson's Hist. vol. 1. 
page 628-9 — Dub. ed. 

A still more interesting account of this black transac- 
tion is in Garnet's Scotland, vol. 1, p. 288; but it is too 
long for the present purpose. 

No Irishman, I believe, ever read this story without the 
strongest sympathy with the unfortunate victims of royal 
and ministerial cruelty. It should be hoped that Scotch- 
men are not less generous towards Irishmen, when it is 
their turn to be betrayed and suffer. Those that are not, 
are undeserving of the name of Scotchmen; an honora- 
ble name when truly merited. 



$52. APPENDIX. 



ISo. III.— Page 46. 

Speech of Theobald Wolfe Tone, 

To the Court-Martial, assembled to pass sentence on 

his life. 

Saturday, Nov. 10, 1798. 

Mr. Tone was made prisoner on board the French ship of 
war the Hoche. A former Court-Martial had been named, 
but was dissolved bij the lord-lieutenant, as there were 
several officers appointed, whose regiment were under 
sailing orders. On the day of the trial, the doors of the 
Dubfai Barracks, where the court met, were at a very 
early hour beset by an immense crowd of all descriptions 
of persons, who, as soon as they were open, rushed in* 

Tone appeared in the uniform of a chief of brigade* 
The firmness and serenity of his deportment, made even 
his bitterest enemies feel the greatness of his mind. 

The judge advocate informed the prisoner, that the 
lord lieutenant had established this court-martial, to try 
whether he had acted traitorously and hostilely against 
his majesty, to whom, as a natural^born subject, he owed 
allegiance. And he was called upon to plead guilty or not 
guilty. 

Tone. — I shall not; give the court any useless trouble, I 
admit the facts alleged, and only ask leave to read an ad- 
dress which I have prepared for this occasion. 

Colonel Daly — Warned the prisoner, that in admitting 
the facts, he necessarily admitted, to his own prejudice, the 
having acted treasonably against the king. 

Tone. — Stripping this charge of its technical forms, it 



APPENDIX. $58 

means, I presume, that I have been taken in arms against 
the soldiers of the king in my native country. I admit 
the accusation in its utmost extent, and desire nothing 
further than to give my reasons. 

The Court — Was willing to hear him, provided he con- 
fined himself within the limits o£ moderaikm. 

ne. — Mr. President and gentlemen of the court-mar- 
1 do not mean that you should waste your time in 
ording to law, that I have borne arms against 
the ivernment in Ireland; I admit the fact. 

From my venderest youth I have considered the union of 
Ireland with Great-Britain as the scourge of the Irish 
nation. And that the people of this country can have nei- 
ther happiness nor freedom whilst that connection endures. 
Every day's experience, and every fact that arose, con- 
vinced me of this truth; and I resolved, if I could, to sep- 
arate the two countries. But as I knew Ireland could 
not of herself, throw off the yoke, I sought for help where\ ■ 
er I could find it. 

Content in honorable poverty, I have refused offers* 
which to one in my circumstances, might seem magnifi- 
cent. I remained faithful to the cause of my country, and 
looked for an ally in the French Republic, to free three 

millions of my countrymen from 

Here he was interrupted by the President 

and Judge Advocate, who observed that this discourse 
tended not to justify himself so much as to inflame the 
minds of certain men ( United Irishmen J of whom doubt- 
less numbers were present. 

Tone, — Unconnected with every party in the republic, 

without protector, money or intrigue, the frankness and 

. integrity of my views soon raised me to a distinguished 

w w 



354 APPENDIX. 

rank in the French army. I enjoyed the confidence of the 
government, the approbation of my general, and I dare 
assert it, the esteem of my brave comrades. Reflecting 
upon these circumstances, I feel a confidence, of which no 
reverse of fortune, nor the sentence which you are so 
shortly to pronounce, can rob me. If I enrolled myself 
under the banners of France, it was with the hope of con- 
tributing to the salvation of my native land. From that 
same and single motive, I encountered the dangers of war 
in a country not my own, and on seas which I knew to be 
covered with the triumphant fleets of a government whom 
it was my glory to resist. 

I have courted poverty; I have left without a protector 
a beloved wife; and without a father, children whom I 
adored. To such and to so many sacrifices, in a cause 
which my conscience still tells me was a just one, I have 
little difficulty now to add that of my life. 

I hear it said that this country has been a prey to hor- 
rors. I lament it, if it is so. But I have been four years 
absent, and cannot be responsible for individual sufferings. 
It was by a frank and open war that I proposed to sepa- 
rate the countries. It is unfortunate, that private ven- 
geance on one side or on the other, should have consider- 
ed itself authorised to mingle its fury in the contest. I 
grieve for it as much as any other, but I am innocent 
of all these calamities; and to all those who know any 
thing of my sentiments or character, justification on that 
head would be very useless. But in vulgar eyes, the merit 
of the cause is judged by its snccess. AVASHINGTON 
CONQUERED—KOSKIUSKO FAILED! 

After a combat nobly sustained, which would have in- 
spired a sentiment of interest in a generous enemy, to the 



APPENDIX. 355 

eternal shame of those who gave the order, I have been 
dragged hither in chains. I speak not for myself in this. 
I know my fate right well. But the tone of supplication 
is beneath me. I repeat it again. I admit all that is 
alleged againt me, touching the separation of Ireland from 
Great-Britain. Words, writings, actions, I avow them 
all. I have spoken and I have acted with reflection and 
on principle; and now with a firm heart I await the conse- 
quences. The members who compose this court, will doubt- 
less do their duty, and I shall take care not to be wanting 
to mine. 

This discourse was pronounced with an accent so digni- 
fied, as deeply affected every hearer, the members of the 
tribunal not excepted. A silent pause ensued, which Tone 
first interrupted, by asking if it was usual to assign an 
interval between the sentence and the execution? The 
judge advocate answered, that the members would imme- 
diately give their opinions, the result of which would be 
forthwith laid before the lord-lieutenant. If the prisoner 
therefore had any further observations to make, it was 
now the moment. 

Tone, — I have a few words to say relative to the mode 
of punishment. In France, the emigrants who stand in 
the same situation as I do now before you, are condemned 
to be shot. I ask, then, that the court should adjudge me 
to die the death of a soldier, and that I may be shot by a 
platoon of grenadiers. I ask this, more in right of iny 
situation as chief of brigade in the French army, than for 
my own sake. It is a respect due to the coat I wear. And I 
shall therefore beg of the court to read my commission and 
letters of service, by which it will appear that I do not 



$56 AFFENfclX. 

avail myself of any deception or subterfuge, but that I 
have been long and bona f.de a French officer 

The Judge Advocate. — You must feel, sir, that the papers 
you allude to, are undeniable proofs against you. 

Tone. — Oh I know it well, and I admit the facts, and I 
admit the papers as proofs of full conviction! 

[The yagers tvere then read. They were, a brevet of 
Chief of Brigade from the Directory, and signed by the 
Minister of War; a letter of service, giving to Tone 
the rank of Adjutant- General, and a passport.] 

General Loftus. — By these papers you are designated as 
serving in the army of England (l'Armee d'Angleterre.) 

Tone. — I did serve in that army, when it was command- 
ed by Bonaparte, by Dessaix, and by Kilmaine, who is, as 
I am, an Irishman; but I have also served elsewhere. 

General Loftus. — The court will not fail to submit to the 
Lord Lieutenant the address which has been read by the 
prisoner, and also the object of his last demands. His 
lordship, however, took care to efface a great part of it* 
namely, that which Tone was prevented from reading. 

The sequel is well known. Mr. Tone, finding that he 
was to be executed in the same savage manner as his 
brother had been a few days before, found means to disap- 
point his enemies, and chose the manner of his death. 

[And thus perished Theobald Wolfe Tone, a man of un- 
questioned personal honor, of heroical courage, of the 
most amiable character, and of talents, which, for the 
same reason that they drew upon him the sentence of a 
. traitor in Ireland, would, in any other country, have 
raised him to the highest distinction.] For some ac- 
count of his wife and children, see Appendix No. 16. 



APPENDIX. 357 



No. IV.— Page 48. 



The following document will shew the nature of those peep- 
of -day, Orange, or No-popery -men, who at present gov- 
ern the king's conscience, and consequently his councils 
throughout the empire. The encouragement of them, 
and their acts of ruthless persecution, were among the 
principal means which the ministers boast of having 
used, to bring about kebeilion, and through rebellion, 

UNION. 

Armagh, December 28, 1795. 
At a numerous meeting of the magistrates of the county of 
Armagh, convened this day, at the special instance of 
Lord Viscount GOSFORD, Governor. 

His Lordship having taken the chair; opened the busi- 
ness of the meeting, by the following Address: 
gentlemen; 

HAVING requested your attendance here this day, it 
becomes my duty to state the grounds upon which I 
thought it advisable to propose this meeting, and at the 
same time to submit to your consideration, a plan which 
occurs to me as most likely to check the enormities that 
have already brought disgrace upon this country, and may- 
soon reduce it into deep distress. 

It is no secret, that a persecution, accompanied with all 
the circumstances of ferocious cruelty, which have in all 
ages distinguished that dreadful calamity, is now raging in 
this country. Neither age nor sex, nor even acknowledg- 
ed innocence, as to any guilt in the last disturbances, is sttf- 
ficientto excite mercy, much less to afford protection. 



651 APPENDIX. 

The only crime which the wretched objects of this ruth- 
less persecution are charged with* is a crime indeed of easy 
proof; it is simply a profession of the Roman Catholic 
Faith, or an intimate connexion with a person professing 
that faith. A lawless banditti have constituted judges of 
this new species of delinquency, and the sentence they 
have pronounced is equally conGise and terrible; it is noth- 
ing less than a confiscation of all property, and immediate 
banishment. 

It would be extremely painful and surely unnecessary, 
to detail the horrors that attend the execution of so wide 
and tremendous a proscription, a proscription that cer- 
tainly exceeds in the comparative number of those it con- 
signs to ruin and misery, every example that ancient or 
modern history can supply. For where have we heard, or 
in what story of human cruelties have we read, of more 
than half the inhabitants of a populous county, deprived at 
one blow of the means as well as the fruits of their indus- 
try, and driven in the midst of an inclement season, to seek 
a shelter for themselves and their helpless families, where 
chance may guide them? 

This is no exaggerated picture of the horrid scenes now- 
acting in this county* Yet surely it is sufficient to awaken 
sentiments of indignation and compassion in the coldest 
bosom. These horrors, I say, are now acting, and acting 
with impunity. The spirit of partial justice (without 
Which law is nothing better than an instrument of tyran- 
ny) has for a time disappeared in this county; and the 
supineness of the magistracy of Armagh, has become a 
common topic of conversation in every corner of the king- 
dom. 

It is said in reply: The Roman Catholics are danger- 



APPENDIX. S59 

©us; they may be so; they may be dangerous from their 
numbers, and still more dangerous from the unbounded 
views they have been encouraged to entertain. But I will 
venture to assert, without fear of contradiction, that upon 
those very grounds, these terrible proceedings are not 
more contrary to humanity than they are to sound policy. 

It is to be lamented, that no civil magistrate happened 
to be present with the military detachment on the night of 
the 91st inst. but I trust the suddenness of the occasion, 
the unexpected and instantaneous aggression on the part 
of the delinquents, will be universally admitted as a full 
vindication of the conduct of the officer and the party un- 
der his command. 

Gentlemen, I have the honor to hold a situation in this 
county, which calls upon me to deliver my sentiments, and 
I do so without fear and without disguise. 

I am as true a Protestant as any gentleman in this 
room or in this kingdom. I inherit a property which my 
family derived under a Protestant title, and with the bless- 
ing of God, I will maintain that title to the utmost of my 
power. I will never consent to make a sacrifice of Protest- 
ant ascendency to Catholic claims, with whatever mena- 
ces they may be urged, or however speciously or insidi- 
ously supported. 

Conscious of my sincerity in this public declaration, 
Which I do not make unadvisedly, but as the result of ma- 
ture deliberation, I defy the paltry insinuations that mal- 
jce or party spirit may suggest. 

I know my own heart, and I should despise myself if un- 
der any intimidation I should close my eyes against such 
scenes as present themselves on every side, or shut my 
*ars against the complaints of a persecuted people. 



560 APPENDIX. 

I should be guilty of an unpardonable injustice to the 
feelings of gentlemen here present, were I to say more on 
this subject. I have now acquitted myself to my conscience 
and my country, and take the liberty of proposing the 
following resolutions: 

1st. That it appears to this meeting, that the county of 
Armagh is, at this moment, in a state of uncommon disor- 
der. That the Roman Catholic inhabitants are grievously 
oppressed by lawless persons unknown, who attack and 
plunder their houses by night, and threaten them with in- 
stant destruction, unless they immediately abandon their 
lands and habitations. 

2d. That a committee of magistrates be appointed, to sit 
on Thursdays and Saturdays, in the chapter-room, in the 
town of Armagh, to receive information respecting all per- 
sons of whatever description, who disturb the peace of this 
county. 

3d. That the instructions of the whole body of the 
magistracy to their committee shall be, to use every legal 
means within their power to stop the progress of the per- 
secution now carrying on by an ungovernable mob against 
the Roman Catholic inhabitants of this county. 

4th. That said committee or any three of them, be em- 
powered to expend any sum or sums of money for infor- 
mation or secret service, out of the fund subscribed by 
the gentlemen of this county. 

5th. That a meeting of the whole body of the magis- 
tracy be held every second Monday, at the house of Mr. 
Charles M'Reynolds; in the town of Armagh, to hear the 
reports of the committee and to give such further instruc- 
tions as the exigency of the times may require. 

6th. That offenders of every description, in the present 



APPENDIX. 



361 



disturbances, shall be prosecuted out of the fund subscrib- 
ed by the gentlemen of this county, and to carry this reso- 
lution into effect; be it also resolved, that Mr. Arthur Ir« 
win be appointed law-agent to the magistrates. 

The above resolutions having been read, were unani- 
piously agreed to, and the committee nominated. 

Lord Gosford having left the chair, and the right hon- 
orable sir Capel Molyneux requested to take it, 

Resolved, That the unanimous thanks of this meeting be 
presented to Lord Viscount Gosford, for his proper con- 
duct in convening the magistrates of the county, and his 
impartiality in the chair. 



Gosford, 

Caoel Molyneux, 
WiiMam Richardson, 
Willi an Brownlow, 
A. J. M'Cann, Sovereign 
Robert B. Sparrow, 
Alex. Thos. Stewart, 
Michael Obins, 
Hugh Hamilton, 
Joseph M'Gough 
James Verner, 
Richard Allot, 
Stewart Blacker, 
John Reilly, 



Samuel Close, 
John Ogle, 
William Clarke, 
Ch. M. War burton, 
Wm. Lodge, 
Wm. Bisset, 
Thomas Quin, 
Owen O'Callaghan, 
John Maxwell, 
William Irwin, 
James Harden, 
James Lawson, 
William Barker, 
Robert Livingston* 



xx 



S6£ APPENDIX, 7 

No. V.— Page 58. 
LORD CASTLEREJ1GH. 

Robert Stuart, at the general election in 11T90, set 
himself up for representative of the county of Down, 
against what was called the Lordly Interest; and in order 
to ingratiate himself with the popular party, took the fol- 
lowing oath or test upon the hustings, as a solemn compact 
between him and his constituents, namely, 

"That he would regularly attend his duty in parliament, 
and be governed by the instructions of his constituents. 

"That he would, in and out of the house, with all his 
ability and influence, promote the success of 

"A bill for amending the representation of tlie people. 

"A bill for preventing pensioners from sitting in par- 
liament, or such placemen as cannot sit in the British 
House of Commons. 

"A bill for limiting the number of placemen and pen- 
sioners and the amount of pension. 

"A bill for preventing revenue officers from voting at 
elections. 

" A bill for rendering the servants of the crown of Ire- 
land responsible for the expenditures of the public money. 

"A bill to protect the personal safety of the subject 
against arbitrary and excessive bail, and against the 
stretching of the power of attachment beyond the limits of the 
constitution." 

REMARK. 

Compare that test with the test of the United Irishmen, 



APPENDIX. 363 

and there is not so much difference that the taker of the one 
should be exalted on a gallows, and the other to a peer- 
age. The only difference is this: He that continued true 
to his test, was hanged; and he that was foresworn hanged 
him. 

Now if ever there was a proof of the lamentable effects 
of a colonial government, it is this, that the most perfidi- 
ous should always be selected for favor and power; as if it 
was a principle of government, not only to deprive the 
subjects of their liberty, but also,, by pernicious examples, 
of their morals; and above all, to trust no man until he had 
made his proofs of baseness. 

When the habeas corpus was to be suspended, could no 
other be found to execute arbitrary imprisonment, but he 
who had sworn to oppose "all arbitrary stretches of pow^ 
er?" When the parliament was to be annihilated, could 
no man be found so fit to destroy it as the man who had 
sworn to defend its independence and its purity? 

How many of those whom lord Castlereagh swore to 
protect against imprisonment, he has since imprisoned ar- 
bitrarily, and betrayed to the most cruel sufferings, may 
be better known hereafter; his biography will be written. 
It is time that false honors should cease to varnish trea- 
son; and that lying and forswearing should cease to pass 
for talents and merit. Does it require so much genius to 
lie, and is it so meritorious to betray? If so, let it be pro- 
claimed aloud to all mankind. The field of genius may be 
much enlarged; honest men will cease to be troublesome, 
and thieves will have due honor. It is much to be wished, 
for the repose of mankind, that a great convention should 
be formed upon this head: That all may submit, or all re- 
bel together. 



364 APPjEXMX- 



No. VI.—Page 70. 



William henrf cavendish, Dnu of Portland^ 

one of his Majesty's honorable Privy Council, and Princi- 
pal Secretary of State, fyc, 8{c. tyc. 

To all Admirals, Vice-Admirals, Captains* Command- 
ers of His Majesty's Ships of War or Privateers, Govern- 
ors, Mayors, Sheriffs, Justices of the Peace, Constables* 
Customers, Comptrollers, Searchers, and all others whom 
it may concern, Greeting: These are, in his majesty's 
name, pursuant to the authority vested in me by his Maj- 
esty in this behalf, to will and require you to permit and 
suffer the bearer hereof, William Sampson, Esq. freely 
and quietly to go from hence to Falmouth, arid there to em<* 
bark and pass over to Lisbon, without any lett, hindrance, 
or molestation whatsoever; Provided the said person do 

embark within - — after the date hereof, and sail, 

wind and weather permitting, or otherwise this pass shall 
remain no longer in force. Given at Whitehall, the thir» 
teenth day of December* 1798* 

PORTLAND, 



APPENEX*. 



No. VII.-^Page 75, 

from the ( London J COURIER* 

The following petition was presented id his Majesty at 

the Levee, by Mr. Fox. 

TO THE KING'S MOST EXCELLENT MAJESTY. 

The humble petition of the undersigned, freeholders of the 

county of Down. 

May it please your Majesty; 
We, your Majesty's most dutiful and loyal subjects* 
take this opportunity of expressing our loyalty and attach- 
ment to your Majesty's person and family, and those prin- 
ciples which placed them on the throne of these realms; 
and, at the same time, of declaring, that, in such a period 
as the present, we should think it little short of treason to 
be silent on the state of this your majesty's kingdom of 
Ireland. It is not merely of a long, disastrous, unjust 
and unnecessary war, which has destroyed public credit, 
commerce and manufactures, we complain: Your majesty* 
in your wisdom, must have perceived the evil consequences 
of that War through every part of your dominions. It is 
not the melancholy waste of blood and treasure of which 
we complain; because those calamities cannot be remedied; 
but we beg leave to approach your throne with a plain un- 
exaggerated state of our present grievances. Ever since 
the administration of the great lord Chatham, almost all 
good and wise men have concurred in the absolute neces- 
sity of a parliamentary reform^ as well for the security of 



366 APPENDIX. 

the throne as the people. Your majesty's present minis- 
ter has given lessons to the empire on that head, which 
can never be forgotten; and the ruin which has accompa- 
nied his deviation from that principle has demonstrated the 
necessity of that measure. The dutiful and loyal petitions 
of your people have not been attended to. The most con- 
stitutional and loyal means of seeking redress have been 
opposed by the most unconstitutional and illegal coercions. 
Every right, for the establishment of which our forefathers 
shed their blood, and for the protection of which your maj- 
esty's ancestors were called to the throne, has been suc- 
cessively taken away by the undue influence of your ma- 
jesty's present ministers; the right of petitioning greatly 
invaded by the convention bill; the trial by jury, by sum- 
mary convictions, under the most unconstitutional laws; 
the liberty of the press and the freedom of speech, by the 
shameful encouragement of spies and informers; the right 
of habeas corpus has been suspended; and the great right, 
which is the security of all other rights, the right of bear- 
ing arms, has been grossly violated, not only by a series 
of laws repugnant to the written and acknowledged com- 
pact between the crown and the people, expressed unequiv- 
ocally in the bill of rights, but in a late instance by an act 
of state avowedly illegal. We therefore humbly intreat 
your majesty to dismiss from your councils and presence, 
your present ministers, as the first step towards restoring 
peace, prosperity and happiness to this distracted country, 
and thereby firmly securing the interests of the crown and 
people, which are both at present in the most alarming 
danger; and we further intreat your majesty immediately 
to call such men to your councils as may assist your people 
in obtaining a reform of parliament, embracing every re* 



APPENDIX, 367 

ligious persuasion, as the sure and only means of rendering 
this kingdom prosperous and happy. 

AR. JOHNSTON, Chairman, 
ED. POTTINGER, Secretary. 
By and on the behalf and at the desire of four thousand 
eight hundred and three freeholders of the county of 
Down, who subscribed their names to the above 
petition. 



No. VIIL— Page 75. 

gy The reader is, to avoid repetition, in consequence of 
the increasing bulk of the work, referred to No. X, where 
will be found the substance of what was intended for this 
number. 



No. IX.— Page 77. 

The following lesson of policij and humanity offered by a 
hired informer to the government that suborned him, is un- 
paralleled in history, 

LETTER OF MR. BIRD, 

To the Lord-Lieutenant, Earl Cambdeiu 
My Lord, 
In as few words as can convey my meaning, I will ex- 
plain the object of my application, which I am pretty sure 
will be deemed a very ill-timed one. In a letter which I 



£68 APPENDIX* 

caused to be delivered to Mr. Cooke, I candidly made 
known my reasons for quitting a situation which I could 
not think of without horror! the consequence of which 
was, that txvo persons escaped a fate to which they had 
been long since doomed by anticipation; that point gained, 
although a very important one, by no means satisfies me, 
Messrs Nelson and liussel are tjet prisoners; and your 
lordship's great knowledge of law precludes the necessity 
?f my asserting, that there is no kind of change whatever, 
which could by any means be supported against those 
gentlemen. Then why, my lord, hold honest men in cap- 
tivity, without even the shadow of a crime to adduce? 
Why irritate the public mind, already goaded nearly to 
desperation? Such conduct, my lord, is as base as it is 
impolitic; spurn such actions as you ought; give perempto^ 
ry orders for the instant liberation of the persons before 
mentioned, and you will acquire an honest popularity, 
infinitely more grateful to a feeling heart, than the barren 
adulation of that venal throng, whose baneful advice 
at present guides your lordship's steps; and who, if 
suffered to proceed, will lead you to inevitable ruin! 
The gratitude of those individuals will induce them to 
place their freedom purely to your lordship's benevolence, 
as they are utterly ignorant of this application in their 
behalf; and I further assure your lordship, that they ever 
shall remain so, if my request be now granted. 

Your lordship's native goodness will, I hope, incline you 
to pardon the freedom of my style. The importance of 
the subject throws etiquette at a distance; and ceremony 
from me would be mere buffoonery. My mind is intent 
on weightier matters, and let me incur what censure I 



APPENDIX* 369 

may, I &m determined to restore those gentlemen to their 
freedom, or lose my own in the attempt. 

I seriously intreat your lordship not to suppose I would 
deign to use empty menace to attain my purpose. No, I 
scorn so mean a subterfuge; and did you but know the 
adamantine foundation on which I build my hope of suc- 
cess, you would not, my lord, for a single moment, hesitate 
between right and wrong, justice and tyranny; but would 
instantly comply with my just request 

Should the enormous power, the lively craft of your 
wicked counsellors, prevail over the dictates of honor in 
your lordship's breast, then, my lord, am I irrevocably 
determined to place in lord Moira's hands, such docu- 
ments as shall strike your boldest orators dumb, and raise 
through the three kingdoms such a tornado of execration* 
as shall penetrate the inmost recesses of the Cabinets of 
London and of Dublin! 

If your lordship can find no better way to unravel the 
mystery, apply to Kemmis, the crown solicitor, perhaps 
he'll tremble; but he can inform you of what it is I speak T 
and which your honor and your interest demand should be 
eternally concealed, or honestly explored! 

I now take my iinal leave of your lordship, in whose 
breast it remains to decide on as important an event, take- 
it all in all, as ever presented itself to your consideration. 
I am, my lord, with the utmost respect, 

Your Excellency's most obedient humble servant, 

J. BIRD. 

P. S. If the gentlemen herein mentioned, are not restored 
to liberty within three days from the delivery of this letter 
to your excellency, I shall conceive it a direct denial, and 
take my measures accordingly. 



>?0 APPENDIX. 



LETTER OF THE SAME TO MR. NELSON 

Sir, 

In what language to address a gentlemen, whom I have 
so very deeply injured, I scarcely know; hut with the 
purest truth I can assure you, sir, that though plunged in 
a dungeon, deprived of every comfort tyranny could wrest 
from you, separated, for ought you know, eternally sepa- 
rated from your wife, your children, friends and home, 
your property devastated, your health and vigor drooping 
beneath such an accumulated load of misery and woe; still, 
sir, had you known my real state of mind, it was infinitely 
less to be envied than yours. Happiness has to me been a 
stranger ever since the fatal day when poverty, and some- 
thing worse, urged me to accept the wages of infamyo 
How those men may feel themselves, in whose hands I 
have been an instrument of ruin, I cannot say; but I 
strongly suspect, could the secrets of their hearts be ex- 
posed to your view, they would not be more the objects of 
your scorn than your pity! 

The first gleams of happiness, which for twelve months 
has visited my breast, have been since I have ceased to 
lank among the number of those sanguinary monsters, 
who are in fact destroying that very system they are 
striving to support. You, sir, will shortly be restored to 
that liberty which your life has been hitherto devoted to 
procure for others; and if you can then think of me without 
horror or disgust, it is as much as I can expect, more 
than I deserve. Great have been the pangs of remorse I 
have endured, when reflecting on the situation of your 
amiable wife and unprotected offspring; nor did the state 
of poor Shanaghan- s family distress me less; they, I fear, 



APPENDIX. 371 

suffered more than yours in some points; but 'twont bear 
reflection. 

I shall only further take the liberty of remarking, that 
if my utmost exertions to serve the men I was hired to 
destroy, can entitle me to pardon from you and from them, 
I should once more feel myself restored to peace and hap- 
piness. I beg, sir, you will excuse the liberty I take, and 
believe me, if you can, when I assure you that no ma?i 
more fervently wishes you every blessing Providence 
can bestow, than the person who for a time robbed you of 
all comfort on earth. 

J. BIRD. 



JLETTER OF MR. NEVVEII TO MR. COOKE, 

Under Secretary of State. 
Sir, 
As I hope in a few days to present you witli my history 
in print, I shall not trouble you much at present, as in it 
you will see my reasons for deserting, and for first becom- 
ing one of the Battallion of Testimony; on mature reflec- 
tion I am confident you must say to ijourself, I have acted 
right. I shall not pretend to say I am beyond your power, 
but should you even arrest me, you will find my heart was 
never afraid to end the project I had once began. You 
well know, not a friendship for government, but my affec- 
tion for the Murdock family? was my reason for becoming 
an informer; that attachment having ceased, the tya that 
bound me to you was no more, and I am again what I then 
was. Connected with Murdock, I teas a villain,, but un- 
connected with him, cease to be so. 



372 APPENDIX. 

An Englishman dared to act honestly, and shall a native 
of Ireland, whose sons are renowned for their honor and 
their courage, he out-done by that nation which we find in 
general produce only men of diabolical and vicious princi- 
ples? Though I can't deny being a villain, I hope clearly 
to prove, I had the honor of being made so by you, though 
you did not inculcate enough of your principles to make it 
lasting. I think you will now be tired of the business of 
information, and I assure you you will shortly have no occa- 
sion for it. Think how disgraceful must appear your con- 
nections and support, when even spies and informer's scorn 
and fly their association, and throw themselves on the for- 
giveness of their injured country, for being awhile con- 
nected with such miscreants. I hope you will now acquit 
me of the charge of want of feeling. I return you thanks 
for the numberless favors you have conferred on me, and 
assure you, that I would not exchange one single hour of 
my present happiness, for ten thousand times the sums you 
have already lavished on me. I have no occasion now for 
pistols, the propriety of my present behaviour is guard 
enough; the forgiveness of my country, its reward; every 
honest man is my friend; and for the other part of the 
community, their esteem is a disgrace. My bosom is 
what it has not been this long time, the seat of contentment, 
and I thank my God for having saved me from impending 
ruin. 

EDWARD JOHN NEWELL. 

N. B. This was the same Newell who wore the mask 
and carried the wand. (See page 78.) He was the gal- 
lant of Mrs. Murdock. He, with Murdock and Dutton, 
composed the triumvirate, whose exploits Bird revealed in 



APPENDIX. 373 

his confessions, signed by Mr. Grattan, and stated by 
lord Moira in the Irish house of lords, as "having made 
his blood to curdle." 



No. X.— Page 85. 

BELFAST RESOLUTIONS. 

At a meeting' of the inhabitants of Belfast, held by ad- 
journment on the 2d of January, 1797, from the former 
meeting of the 31st of December, 1796, the committee 
chosen by the said meeting having agreed to the follow- 
ing resolutions, recommended them to their townsmen for 
adoption. 

COUNSELLOR, SAMPSON IN THE CHAIR. 

1st. Resolved, that the imperfect state of the representa- 
tion in the house of commons, is the primary cause of the 
discontent in this country. 

2d. That the public mind would he restored to tran- 
quility, and every impending danger effectually averted by 
such a reform in parliament, as would secure to population 
and property their due weight in the scale of government, 
without distinction on account of religious opinions. 

3d. That a determination firmly manifested on the part 
of government, to comply with the great desires of the 
people, would be productive of the happiest effects, inas- 
much as it would conciliate the affections of the people, 
whose object is reform alone, and thereby constitute the 
only rampart of defence, that can bid complete defiance to 
the efforts of foreign and domestic enemies. 

4th. That such a change in the system of government 



374 APPENDIX. 

would give to property, law, religion, and the necessary 
distinction of rank, additional stability and weight, and 
that no opinion can be entertained by the people so danger- 
ous, as the despair of succeeding in their constitutional 
exertions to obtain the most important objects of their 
wishes. 

5th. TIi at we conceive a constitution by king, lords and 
commons (the commons being then reformed) when wisely 
and honestly administered, capable of affording every 
happiness a nation can enjoy. 

6th. That we are ready, if permitted by government, to 
arm in like manner as the volunteers, whose memory 
we rev ere, and whose example we wish to imitate. 

Resolved, That the chairman be requested to wait upon 
the sovereign with a copy of the resolutions, and to request 
him, in the name of the meeting, to communicate the same 
to the lord-lieutenant, and solicit permission for the inhab- 
itants of this town to arm themselves agreeably to the 
same resolutions. 

REMARK. 

The chancellor, lord Clare, in the house of lords, on the 
17th of the same month, adverting to these resolutions, 
made use of the following intemperate expressions: 

•*To say nothing of the affiliated United Irishmen, a- 
vowedly associated to support the enemy, I will recal to 
your lordship's recollection, the daring insolence of some 
of those persons in the great commercial town of Belfast, 
where a meeting was lately held, at which resolutions of 
50 treasonable a nature were entered into, as to make us 
amazed at the mildness of government in not punishing 
the authors." 



APPENDIX. 575 

Now in the first place, the author of these resolutions was 
lord O'Neil, a man of ancient rank and standing in the 
country; whereas lord Clare's grand-father was a Roman 
Catholic priest, and his father a student of St. Omers, 
destined originally for the same profession, and who had, 
it is said, been actually tonsured! 

Lord O'Neil, who was once greatly beloved in the coun- 
try, had at this time lost his popularity, by joining with 
the Clare faction, and afterwards, a fact deeply to be la- 
mented, lost his life in the battle of Antrim. And was 
then one of the acting privy counsellors, sitting at the same 
board with lord Clare, and signing the same proclamations 
and acts of coercion. 

Lord O'Neil had wished to have these very resolutions 
adopted by the county of Antrim, as measures of concilia- 
tion; but in the exasperated state of the public mind, he 
despaired of accomplishing it. It was in the interval of 
the adjournment, that some friends of lord O'neil, moderate 
men, and good government men, had put these resolutions 
into my hands, with intreaties that I would use my endea- 
vors to have them passed by the committee of the town. 
I was not in the secret of the French alliance, and had no 
other motive under Heaven, than to assuage the violence 
of party, to prevent the impending massacre, and if possi- 
ble to keep the door open to reconciliation, and prevent a 
civil war. But though I did not know that the French 
had been invited, I knew very well that the governing fac- 
tion were meditating the revolution, which they afterwards 
eifected, under the name of Union. The implacable ran- 
cor of lord Clare against me, could have then no other mo- 
tive than that I stood in the way of a darling massacre, and 
was anxious to promote peace. And certainly, if ever 



SrS APPENDIX. 

there was an action that deserved the praise of moderation, 
it was that one for which I was thus virulently denounced. 
If I am now less moderate, it is not because my personal 
feelings have been injured, for I am still willing to sacri- 
fice what remains of my life and fortune to the advantage 
of my country; but it is because my eyes are open to the 
futility of expecting any benefit to Ireland from those who 
govern her. Had conciliation been compatible with the 
views of those men, they would have commended my en- 
deavors, and the declarations of the state prisoners exam- 
ined by lord Clare himself, would have been convincing 
proofs how well I acted. ( See pieces of Irish Hist. p. 228. J 



No. XI.— Page 89. 

HUMANITY PUNISHED WITH DEATH, 

From the relations of Mr. Haij and the Reverend Mr. Gordon. 

Different courts-martial were instituted in Ross, 
Enniscorthy, Gorey and Newtown-Barry and several 
persons were condemned and executed, and others were 
sentenced to transportation. Among those who were con- 
demned to be executed, I cannot avoid noticing the case of 
the Reverend John Redmond, a Catholic priest, who, it 
seems, during the insurrection, had done all in his power 
to save the house of lord Mountnorris from being plunder- 
ed, which he in some degree effected, but not at all to the 
extent of his wishes. Lord Mountnorris, however, to 
prevent the possibility of his being supposed by any one 
in future a friend to Catholics, sent for Mr. Redmond, 



APPENDIX. 577 

upon finding that he was present at the plundering of his 
house, desiring that lie would come to him directly. The 
reverend gentleman, conscious of his own integrity, and 
apprehensive of no danger, as involved in no guilt, obeyed 
the summons without hesitation; but his instantaneous 
hasty trial, condemnation and execution, were the reward 
of his humane and generous exertions. His body, after 
death, underwent the most indecent mutilations. 

It is a melancholy reflection to think how many inno- 
cent persons were condemned. I have heard of numbers, 
of whose innocence the smallest doubt cannot be entertain- 
ed, w r hose conduct merited reward instead of punishment; 
yet they fell victims to the purest sentiments of philanthro- 
py, which dictated their interference: these have been per- 
verted by their enemies, who are also those of the human 
race, into crimes utterly unpardonable. Is this any thing 
less than arraigning benevolence and humanity, the most 
amiable qualities of the soul of man, as criminal and atro- 
cious? But every man's breast, whatever be his principles, 
will tell him, with irresistible force, that crime and atroci- 
ty lie at the other side. From personal knowledge of the 
circumstances, I knew five or six who were innocent of the 
charges and of the deeds sworn against them, and who 
still were condemned and executed. In these turbid and 
distracted times, I have seen persons sunk so much below 
the level of human nature, that I do believe they were not. 
capable of judgment or recollection, which accounts to me 
in some degree for the various assertions, even testimonies 
on trials, and affidavits made by different persons, who 
might as well relate their dreams for facts. 

Mr. E. Kyan, whose courage and humanity deserved a 
better fate, was taken near Wexford, on his return home 

z z 



378 APPENDIX. 

in the night, tried, condemned and executed the next dayi 
for although manifest proofs appeared of his humanity and 
interference, so conspicuously effectual on the bridge of 
Wexford, on the 20th of June, 1798, yet this was insuffi- 
cient to save him, as he had arms about him when appre- 
hended. His fate is the more lamentable, as Mr. Fitz- 
Gerald, on surrendering te General Dundas, had secured 
the same terms for Mr, Kyan as for himself; so that had 
any circumstance interfered to delay his execution for 
some time, tire life of a brave man would have been saved. 
(Set Hay's Insurrection, pages 266 — 7 — 8 — 9 — 70, and 
Gordon's History of the Irish Rebellion, pages 186 — 7. And 
Plow den, vol, 4. J 

A very remarkable saying is recorded of one of the rebel 
prisoners, who thanked God that no one could accuse him 
of having saved the life or property of any body. 
REMARK. 

It is difficult for an American reader to conceive, why 
lie that shewed mercy, or endeavored after peace, should 
he most obnoxious. But if it be remembered, that the 
beginning of this civil war was the recal of lord Fitzwil- 
liam; if it be kept in mind that the dispute between the 
English cabinet and that viceroy, turned not so much upon 
the Catholic question as upon the apprehension that Mr. 
Beresford was < filling a situation greater than that of the 
lord4ieutenant 9 " and upon the necessity of his dismissal, 
and also the dismissal of Messrs. Wolfe and Toler, the 
two public prosecutors; then it will be felt why these 
men, who by force of the king's conscience remained in 
office, in despite of the public wish, and whose emoluments 
and importance grew out of the public calamities, should 
dread peace, reform or conciliation; to all or either of 



APPENDIX. 37$ 

which, their fortunes and ambition must of course he 
sacrificed. Again, if we look to the origin of these gen- 
tlemen to whose ascendancy a wretched people have been 
sacrificed, we shall be less astonished that they should 
maintain their present elevation by every means. If I am 
rightly informed the grand-father of the Beresfords came 
from England to follow his trade of an Inkle-weaver in 
Coleraine; and the enormous fortunes of that family are 
nothing but the plunder of the miserable Irish whom they 
have scourged, hanged and massacred, in order to silence 
their complaints. Ask who is the marquis of Waterford 
or lord Tyrone? Ask who is lord Castlereagh or lord Lon- 
donderry; who is lord Norbury; who was lord Earlsfort, 
and so many other lords whose origin is as obscure? Ask 
when and for what virtue they were irradiated with such 
high glories? Alas! their virtue, of all virtues, was their 
enmity to Ireland and their corrupt and violent endeavors 
to keep her in misery, disunion and subjection; and there- 
fore their worst enemy was the reformer or the peace- 
maker, the oppressor their natural ally. 



No. XII.— Page 148. 

Certificate of Mr, Lqfargue. 

I, Anthony Lafargue, marine agent of the French 
Republic for the exchange of French prisoners of war at 
Lisbon, certify, to all whom it may concern, that William 
Sampson, of Ireland, and his servant of the same nation, 
embarked on board of the Danish ship called the Die Hoi£ 



380 APPENDIX. 

nung, captain Lars Jansen, were put on board that ship 
by order of the intendente-general of the police of this 
city, for reasons of state; and I attest, that these two men 
have no employment whatsoever on board of the said vessel. 
In witness whereof, I have signed this present certificate, 
and sealed it witli my seal. Done at Lisbon the 9th of 
Floreal, 7th year of the French Republic, one and indi- 
visible. 

ANTHONY LAFARGTJE. 
fSeal.J 



No. XIIL— Page 160. 

Arrete Motive, 

Extract from the deliberations of the Municipal Adminis- 
tration of the Commune of Bayonne. 

Sitting of the 14th Messidor, fifth year of the Republic, one 
and indivisible. Present, the citi%ens Sauvinet, jun. 
President; Andrew Durvergier, Louis Bertrand, Domi- 
nick Meillan, James Lacoste 9 Laurent Garay, Municipal 
Administrators; and P. Basterreche, Commissary of the 
Executive Directory, 

The municipal administration of the commune of 
Bayonne, having considered the different proofs adduced 
by Mr. William Sampson, of Ireland, shewing that he had 
been forced successively to leave Ireland and Portugal; and 
that the ship which landed him at Passage, was destined 
for Bordeaux* 



APPENDIX. S81 

Considering, that if it is important to the safety of the 
republic to shut out such strangers as are under suspicion* 
or pertubators, it is also its duty to grant protection to all 
the victims of despotism. 

Considering, that it results from the various proofs, pro- 
duced to us by Mr. William Sampson, that he was pro- 
scribed in his native country, and afterwards in Lisbon, on 
account of his sentiments of liberty, and the zeal with 
which he had asserted it in the midst of atrocious persecu- 
tions. 

Considering, finally, that it may be essential, under the 
existing circumstances, to give to the government a knowl- 
edge of those who are capable of informing it, touching the 
situation of its enemies; and that in this view, Mr. William 
Sampson, so well known in the annals of Ireland, may be 
able to offer very useful instruction. 

Having first heard the commissary of the executive di- 
rectory, decree, that Mr. William Sampson be permitted 
to Paris, passing by Bordeaux, Angouleme, Poitier, Tours, 
and Orleans, under the condition that he present himself 
to the constituted authorities of the communes, to have the 
present passport examined; and that he present himself, on 
his arrival at Paris, before the minister of the general po- 
lice, who will be apprised of his intention by the municipal- 
ity of Bayonne. 

■Compared Copy, 

( Seal. ) The Mayor of Bayonne, 

LACROIX RAVIGNAN. 

REMARK. 

It will be clear to every intelligent or candid reader, 
how easily I might have recommended myself to high fa- 



382 APPENDIX* 

vor. I did not choose to do it, for my independence was. 
dearer to me than every thing. I hoped, besides, that the 
violent empire of terror in my native country might have 
subsided, and that I might still, perhaps, have been of use 
in its pacification. Those, I am sure, who would have 
cried treason if I had accepted of this offer, will laugh at 
my simplicity. And I know further, that to them my con- 
duct will never be agreeable, whilst it is dignified or 
honorable. 

I am sorry, however, to be obliged, at length, to con* 
form to the sentiments of Mr. Tone; that there never can 
be happiness or liberty for Ireland, whilst that connection, 
which is her scourge, subsists* It is now, alas! too well 
demonstrated by proofs of stupid pertinacity. 

My memorial to the municipality of Bayonne woul^ 
beyond every thing, have put my enemies to shame. But 
although I sincerely believe it to be in possession, by 
means which I am not free to mention, I am sure they will 
never do me the justice to produce it. If it was on the 
contrary a piece tending to my crimination, it would 
have been public long ago. 



No. XIV.— Page 162. 

INTERROGATORIES, 

Before the Bureau Central of Bordeaux, 

This day, the first of Thermidor, seventh year of the 
French Republic, one and indivisible, appeared before us* 
administrators of the Bureau Central of the canton of Bor~ 



APPENDIX, 



;B3 



deaux, the person hereafter named, whose interrogatories 
and answers were as follows: 

question.— His age, place of nativity, profession and 

last domicil? 

Answer.— William Sampson, thirty -five years of age, 
born in Londonderry, in Ireland, counsellor at law; present 
residence in Bordeaux, at the hotel de la Providence, in 
the street Port-Dijeaux. 

Q.— How long he had been in Bordeaux, and what were 
his means of subsistence? 

.&— -About twelve days; his means of subsistence, a small 
sum of money, which he brought from Portugal, and what, 
lie can in future procure from the disposable property 
which he has in his own country. 

q. — From whence and for what he came to Bordeaux: 

A.— That being by his profession of advocate, bound to 
respect the laws and rights of his fellow-citizens, las zeal 
in their maintainance against the oppressions of the tyran- 
nical government now exercised by England in Ireland. 
had brought upon him all sorts of persecution. He was 
long imprisoned; his life exposed, like that of multitudes 
of his fellow-citizens, to hourly danger. The details of 
all he underwent would be too voluminous to be inserted in 
these interrogatories. He confines himself at present to 
the following facts, viz. that he was compelled to leave his 
country, and to go to Portugal with the condition of re- 
maining there during the present war, and to give security 
in two thousand pounds sterling, not to leave that kingdom. 
That some weeks after his landing at Oporto, he was ar- 
rested and conveyed to Lisbon, where he was imprisoned 
and made to endure the cruellest vexations, and finally em- 
barked on board a Danish vessel, as he was told, for Ham- 



384 APPENDIX. 

burg. But that the vessel was in fact bound to Bordeaux, 
and is now arrived in this port. 

q. — To relate more particularly for what cause he was 
transported into Portugal, made prisoner in Oporto and 
Lisbon, and there embarked. What was the name of the 
vessel and of the captain? 

A. — >That amongst other things from the time that tile 
English government declared war against France, he had 
manifested by his writings and all legal means, his aver- 
sion to their motives of hostility. Conceiving that it was 
no just cause of war, that another nation chose to make 
alterations in its government. 2dly. The desire which he 
had manifested in common with his fellow-citizens for the 
reform of the parliament, the dismissal of the ministry, 
and peace with France. 3dly. The arbitrary, tyrannical 
and cruel acts which the English government practised in 
manifest violation of the rights of the people of Ireland. 
4thly. That he had constantly demanded a trial, which was 
refused him, for that it was judged better to proceed arbitra- 
rily against Mm, as well to prevent his justification as the 
exposure of the manoeuvres of his persecutors. 5thly. 
That he presumes that it was for the same reasons he was 
arrested at Oporto, and conducted to Lisbon, in order to 
deprive him of all correspondence; and that for the same 
reasons, in the same arbitrary manner, he was forceably 
embarked on board of the Danish vessel, the Die Hoff- 
nung, captain Lars Jansen; and further he adds, that the 
English and Irish papers had not ceased to publish absurd 
and contradictory calumnies and falsehoods respecting 
htm, and the motives of his detention. 

Q.— Whether the Danish vessel had brought him direct- 
ly to Bordeaux? 



APPENDIX. 385 

w3. — After being forty-three days at sea, and all ttife 
provisions consumed, the captain was obliged to put into 
St. Sebastian. That he had often, on account of his bad 
health, solicited the captain to put him on shore, which he 
refused; that he took the resolution there to make the rest 
of his way by land to avoid a repetition of the same suffer- 
ings; and that his design was merely to follow the destina- 
tion of the ship, in which he had been embarked with his 
effects. 

Being no further interrogated, and the present being 
read to him, he affirms the truth of his answers as therein 
contained, and thereto signs his name. 

WILLIAM SAMPSON. 

PIERRE BALGUINE, Admr. 

BERNEDE, Chief of Bureau. 



INTERROGATORY OF FRANCIS RIVET. 

This day being the 4th of Thermidor, in the 7th year 
of the French Republic, one and indivisible, we the admin- 
istrators of the Bureau Central of the canton of Bordeaux, 
caused the citizen Rivet to appear before us, who was in- 
terrogated as follows: 

q, — His name, surname, age, place of nativity, and last 
domicil? 

Ji. — His name is Francis Rivet, age forty years; native 
of Nantes, lodges at the Hotel de la Providence. 

q, — Desired to communicate all he knew touching the 
case of William Sampson of Ireland. 

J e — The first he heard of him was when he was himself 
3A 



38$ APPENDIX. 

in prison at Lisbon, by means of his gaoler, who had gone 
to the prison of the said William Sampson, to serve as 
his interpreter in interrogatories which he then under- 
went. And the said gaoler told the deponent, that the 
cause of the imprisonment of the said person was, that he 
was Irish, and his principles suspected by the Portuguese 
government. Deponent further says, that about fifteen 
days after, he was transported with the said William 
Sampson from Lisbon to the prison of Belem, near Lis- 
bon, where they contrived, by address, to speak together, 
then he found that he was the same person of whom his 
gaoler had spoken; but another fortnight elapsed before 
they could obtain permission to converse freely together, 
and that was only on the day previous to their quitting the 
prison. On the day fixed for their departure, without a 
moment of preparation, they were obliged to embark in a 
boat belonging to the government, escorted by agents or 
officers of the police, who conducted them on board of the- 
Danish vessel, named the Die Huffnung, captain Lars 
Jansen, who had then already weighed anchor, and was 
proceeding to sea. 

Q. — If he knew, on embarking, for what port the ship 
was bound, or at what time he came to that knowledge? 

A. — From what he was told, as well by the gaoler of 
Belem as by the chief agent of the police, who took him, 
together with the said Sampson and his servant* on board 
the said vessel, he supposed they were going to Hamburg, 
and their passports being for that port, confirmed him in 
such belief. It was not until three days after they left Lis- 
bon, that the captain, who till then had kept it secret, de- 
clared to them that he was going to Bordeaux, and shewed 
his papers, which left no further doubt. 



APPENDIX. 387 

Q.— If he could give any further information touching 
William Sampson? 

Jl. — That he, together with the said William Sampson, 
often insisted most earnestly with the captain, that he 
would put them on shore, wherever he could find it practi- 
cable, and engaged to follow the destination of the vessel, 
and even to leave their effects on board, as a security and 
proof of their intentions. This latter proposal was made 
in order to free the captain from the terror with which 
he seemed to be impressed, and the fear he was under of 
arriving without his passengers at Bordeaux; but that it 
was all in vain; for that he never would consent to come 
near the land, until he was finally forced by a total failure 
of provisions to put into St. Sebastian. He adds further, that 
considering the generosity of the French nation, and the 
embarrassing position in which the said William Sampson 
stood, owing to the perfidious measures of persecution di- 
rected against him, he had been the first to encourage him 
with the prospects of a favorable reception from the con- 
stituted authorities; and that deponent advised him, that it 
was now much safer for him, under the circumstances of 
his case, to follow the destination given him, than to stop 
at any other place. 

And being no further interrogated, &c. 

Signed, $•& 



388 APPENDIX. 

INTERROGATORY OF CAPTAIN 1ARS JANSEN, 

The Third Thermidor, $c. 

Q. — His name, surname, age, where born, and of what 
profession? 

Jl. — Lars Jansen, forty -two years of age, native of Fins- 
burg, in Denmark, captain of a vessel. 

Q. — The name of the vessel he commands? 

X- -The Die HofTnung. 

Q. — How long he has been at Bordeaux? 

Jl. — Since the 22d Messidor. 

Q. — Whence he came last? 

.0.— From St. Sebastian. 

Q.— How long he remained at St. Sebastian: 

S. — Six days. 

Q. — How long he had been at Lisbon? 

A. — About twenty-three days. 

q — If during his stay there, he had not received on 
board his ship William Sampson of Ireland? 

4— Yes. 

Q. — If he received him willingly or from constraint? 

^.— -By force, and by virtue of an order from the Portu- 
guese government. 

Q. — If the said William Sampson was conducted on 
board by an armed force? 

Jl. — That he was brought on board in a Portuguese boat, 
by a number of persons whom he did not know. 

Q. — If when he left Lisbon he was bound for Bordeaux 
or for Denmark? 

«#. — That he was bound to Bordeaux and no where else. 

Q.— If he told Wmiam Sampson that he wus bound to 
Bordeaux? 



APPENDIX. 389 

jj. — That after he was on board he told him, but not till 
he was at sea. 

q. — For what reason he put into St. Sebastian? 

Jl. — On account of a contrary wind and want of proviso 
ions, which were exhausted by a passage of forty -three 
days. 

Q. — Whether the same persons who had conducted the 
said William Sampson on board, had given to him, the 
deponent, certificates, and to the said Sampson his pass- 
port? 

A. — Yes; the moment the vessel got under way and 
was proceeding to sea. 

Being no further interrogated, the present being read 
to him, he maintains the truth of his answers as therein 
contained, and signs, together with the interpreter thereof. 

BINAUD, 



SAMPSON, 



PIERRE BALGUERIE, Admr. 
BERNEDE, Chief of Bureau. 



{Q^My servant, John Russel, was also interrogated in 
confirmation of the above facts. The originals of all the 
documents adduced as vouchers of this memoir, are in my 
possession. 



390 APPENDIX. 

No. XV Page £04. 

MY PASSPORT FROM PARIS TO HAMBURG. 

Prisoners of JVar—~No. 1324. 

WAR DEPARTMENT — FRENCH REPUBLIQJJE. 

In the name of the French Government. 

To ALL OFFICERS, CIVIL AND MILITARY, charged 

with the maintenance of public order in different depart- 
ments of the republic, permit Mr. Sampson (William) 
freely to pass (with his wife and two children,) born at 
Londonderry in Ireland, forty years of age; of the height 
of one metre, seventy-six centimetres; hair and eye-brows 
dark brown, (chatains brims) high forehead, large nose, 
hazel eyes, mouth middle size, round chin, and face oval; 
going to Hamburg, without giving or suffering to be given 
to him any hindrance. The present passport, good to go 
to Hamburg and return to Paris. 

Granted at Paris, the 27th Germinal, 13th year of the 
republic, 

Signed, 

WILLIAM SAMPSON. 
BERTHIER, Minister of War. 

Approved by the minister of the police. 

FOVCHE. 



APPENDIX. S91 

No. XVI.— -Page 329* 

MATLLDA TONE. 

This admirable woman is of a family which moves in 
the genteelest circles of her country. Her name was 
Witherington. At sixteen years of age she made a match 
of love with Theobald Wolfe Tone, then a youthful student. 
This marriage produced a separation from her family, 
which only served to increase the tender affections of her 
husband. He bestowed much time upon her education, 
and had the delicious pleasure of cultivating the most noble, 
refined and delicate of minds. " Content," to use his own 
words, "with honorable poverty" they might be truly 
called a happy couple. But fortune, which delights in 
splendid victims, blasted their early joys. Mrs. Tone re- 
mained at her husband's death, in Paris, with three young 
pledges of their love. The estimation in which Tone was 
held, and her own merit, had attached to her interest many 
powerful friends. But with the arts of intrigue her noble 
mind could never be familiar, she retired from the notice 
of the world. The most elegant encomium ever pro- 
nounced on woman, was that which Lucien Bonaparte 
bestowed upon her, in recommending her case and that cf 
her children to the attention of the French Councils. 

Her two sons were, in right of their father, received 
into the national school of the Prytannee, and her charm- 
ing daughter, educated in the midst of a dissipated city, 
with the purity of an angel, became the sweet companion, 
and soother of the sorrows of a widowed mother. But 
she, like a fair blossom untimely nipped, bloomed at once, 



592 APPENDIX. 

and faded. She died in the dawn of loveliness, and felt 
no pang in death but for the sufferings of the mother she 
adored. Another child of promise soon followed, no less 
beloved, no less regretted; and fate, not satisfied with so 
much cruelty, threatened to bereave her of her remaining 
comfort. It was to avert that last stroke of angry destiny, 
that she lately made a voyage to America; and in the 
city of New-York a society of her affectionate country- 
men seized upon the unexpected occasion, and presented 
her with the following tribute to the memory of her hus- 
band, and her own virtues. 

In pursuance of a resolution of the Hibernian Provident So- 
ciety of the city of New-Fork, a committee waited on 
Mrs. Tone, on Saturday last; and in the most respectful 
manner presented her a Medallion, with an appropri- 
ate device and inscription; and to her son fa youth of 
sixteen J a Sword, accompanied with the following 
JDDRESS: 
Madam, 
We are appointed by the Hibernian Provident Society 
of New- York, to embrace the opportunity of your presence 
in this city, to express to you their very profound respect for 
the character and memory of your late illustrious husband, 
General Theobald Wolfe Tone, and their affectionate at- 
tachment to his widow and son. To many of our society 
he was intimately known; by all of us he was ardently 
beloved; and while we look back with anguish on the 
frightful calamities of our time and country, we delight to 
dwell on his talents, his patriotism, his perseverance, and 
his dignity in misfortune. Accept, madam, a testimonial 
of their esteem, which can pretend to no value, but what it 



APPENDIX. g$3 

may derive from the sincerity with which it is offered, 
In some other country, perhaps, it may awaken the reflec- 
tion, that wherever Irishmen dare to express the senti- 
ments of their hearts, they celebrate the name and suffer- 
ings of TONE, with that melancholy enthusiasm which is 
characteristic of their national feelings for the struggles 
and misfortunes of their Heroes. 

We are likewise directed to present a Sword to his 
youthful son and successor, with a lively hope, that it may 
one day, in his hand, avenge the wrongs of his country. 
We arc, Madam, 

With the utmost respect, 

Your most obedient humble servants, 
David Bryson, "] 

Geo. White, 

Wm. Js. Macneven, J> Committee. 
Thos. Addis Emmet, 
George Cuming, 
October 1, 1807." 

To which Mrs. Tone returned the following Answer: 
Gentlemen, 

The sweetest consolation my heart can feel, I receive 
in the proof you now give me, that my husband still lives 
in your affections and esteem; though in the course of nine 
disastrous years, the numerous victims who have magnan- 
imously suffered for the liberty of Ireland, might well con- 
fuse memory, and make selection difficult. 

I am proud of belonging to a nation, whose sons pre- 
serve, under every vicissitude of fortune, a faithful at- 
tachment to their principles; and from whose firm and 
generous minds, neither persecution, exile, nor time, can 

3b 



394 APPENDIX. 

obliterate the remembrance of those who have fallen, 
though ineffectually, in the cause of our country. 

For your gift to my son, take his mother's thanks and 
his, while she tremblingly hopes that fate may spare him, 
to prove himself not unworthy of his father or his friends. 
/ have the honor to remain, 

With grateful respect, gentlemen, 
Four most obedient, 

MATILDA TONE. 



THE MEDALLION* 

Cato, contemplating the immortality of the soul; he is 
seated; one hand rests on the works of Plato, the other 
on his sword. The allusion will be readily perceived by 
those who remember the fate of general Tone. 

MOTTO. 

Viodrix Causa Diis placuit, sed Victa Catoni. 

INSCRIPTION. 

Presented by the Hibernian Provident Society ob 

New-York, to the worthy Relict of the late 

illustrious Patriot, 

GEN. THEOBALD WOLFE TONE. 

While we lament his sufferings, 
We will ever cherish his memory, 
And emulate his virtues. 

♦Elegantly executed by Mr. Arch. Robertson) of this City. 



APPENDIX, 395 



FACTS, 

IN 

CONTINUATION OF THE APPENDIX. 



Having promised some instances of the cruelties inflict- 
ed on the Irish, they will naturally be expected. But 
what to select from such a mass of horrors, is a difficult 
question. If my professional occupations should leave me 
so much leisure hereafter, I may probably employ it in 
further pursuit of a subject so interesting to humanity, 
and so necessary to truth. For the present the following 
extracts may suffice, to authenticate all that has been as- 
serted in the correspondence. And it will readily appear 
to any candid mind, to which of the contending parties in 
Ireland the imputation of Treason is most deservedly 
ascribable. 



TEST OF THE ORANGEMEN, 

Contrasted with that of the United Irishmen, 



I do hereby swear, that I will be true to the king and 
government, and that I will exterminate, as far as I 
am able, the Catholics of Inland* 



396 APPENDIX. 

Questions. Answers. 

Where are you? At the house of bondage. 

Where arc you going? To the Promised Land. 

Stand fast yourself? Through the Red Sea. 

What is your haste? I am afraid. 

Dont be afraid, for the man who sought your life is dead- 
Will you hold it or have it? I will hold it. 

SIGNS OF THE ORANGEMEN. 

Take your right hand and put it to your right hunch, 
turn round, saying, great is the man that sent me; then 
take your left hand and say, welcome brother Prince of 
Orange. 

gySuch was the grossness of that faction which now 
governs both England and Ireland, it is almost incredible* 

AMENDED OATH OF ORANGEMEN, 

M it is said to have issued from the hands of the Grand 
Master of the Orange Lodges in Ulster. 
I, in the presence of Almighty God, do solemnly and 
sincerely swear, that I will not give the secret of an Or« 
angeman, unless it be to him or them I find to be such 
after strict trial, or the word of a well-known Orangeman, 
for him or from the body or assembly of Orangemen. I 
also swear, that I will answer all summonses from an as- 
sembly of Orangemen, eighty miles distance; and that I 
will not sit, stand by, or be by and see a brother Orange- 
man struck, battered or abused, or known his character in- 
juriously taken away, without using every effort in my 
power to assist him at the hazard of my life. I further 
declare, that I will not lie, to or upon an Orangemen, me 
knowing the same to be detrimental to him; but will warn 
him of all dangers, as far as in my power lies; and that I 
will bear true allegiance to his majesty, and assist the 



APPENDIX. 397 

civil magistrates in the execution of their offices, if called 

upon, and that I will not know of any conspiracy against 

the Protestant Ascendancy, and that I will not make, or 

be at the making of a Roman Catholic an Orangeman, or 

give him any offence, unless he offends me, and then I will 

use my utmost endeavors to shed the last drop of his hlood, 

if he or they be not a warranted mason; and that I will 

stand three to ten to relieve a brother Orangeman, and I 

will not he a thief, or the companion of a thief, to my 

knowledge. 

questions. Mswers. 

What's that in your hand? A secret to you. 

From whence came you? From the land of bondage. 

Whither goeth thou? To the land of promise. 

Have you got a pass -word? I have. 

Will you give it to me? I did not get it so. 

Will you halve it or letter it? I will halve it. 

March Delzo thro' the Red Sea. 

What Red Sea? The wall of the Red Sea. 

I am afraid. Of what? 

The secrets of the Orange- Fear not, for he that sought 
men being discovered. your life is dead. 

Have you got a grand word? I have the grand, I am that 

I am. 

Did you hear the crack? I did. 

What crack did you hear? A crack from the hill of fire. 

Can you write your name? I can. 

With what sort of a pen? With the spear of life, or Aa- 
ron's rod, that buds, blos- 
soms, and bears almonds 
in one night. 

With what sort of ink? Papist blood. 



398 APPENDIX* 

This last was the amended test, to which a certain vice- 
ray was said to have subscribed when colonel of the Cam- 
bridge regiment. 

[The former was what they called their purple oath, and 
evidently that upon which they acted. 



CONTRAST. 

Original Declaration of United Irishmen, 
"We pledge ourselves to endeavor, by all due means, to 
obtain a complete and radical reform of the representation 
of the people in Parliament, including Irishmen of every 
religious persuasion." 

XATTER TEST OF UNITED IRISHMEN, 

After the insurrection act had made the former obligation a 
felony, and secrecy became necessary to self-preservation, 

"IN THE AWFUL PRESENCE OF GOD, 

I do voluntarily declare, that I will persevere in endea- 
voring to form a brotherhood of affection among Irish- 
men of every religious persuasion; and that I will also 
persevere in my endeavors to obtain an equal, full and ad- 
equate representation of all the people of Ireland. I do 
further declare, that neither hopes, fears, rewards or pun- 
ishments, shall ever induce me, directly or indirectly, to 
inform on, or give evidence against, any member or mem- 
bers of this or similar societies, for any act or expression of 
theirs, done or made collectively or individually, in or out 
of this society, in pursuance of the spirit of this obligation.' 5 

gyThat the oath to exterminate should be loyal, and 
the oath to promote religious reconciliation, treasonable, 
could happen only under the government of England." 



APPENDIX, 399 

EXTRACTS PROM LORD MOIRA's SPEECH, 

In the English House of Lords, on the 22d of November, 
1797, in favor of Conciliation. 

"When I troubled your lordships with my observations 
upon the state of Ireland last year, I spoke upon documents 
certain and incontestible. I address you, this day, my 
lords, upon documents equally sure and stable. Before 
God and my country, I speak of what I have seen myself. 
But in what I shall think it necessary to say upon this 
subject, I feel that I must take grounds of a restrictive na- 
ture. It is not my intention to select any individual, in 
order to adduce a charge against him. It is not my wish 
to point a prejudice against any one. What I have to 
speak of, are not solitary and isolated measures, nor par- 
tial abuses, but what is adopted as the system of govern- 
ment. I do not talk of a casual system, but of one delibe- 
rately determined upon and regularly persevered in. 
When we hear of a military government, we must expect 
excesses, which are not all, I acknowledge, attributable to 
the government; but these I lay out of my consideration. 
I will speak only of the excesses that belong to, and pro- 
ceed from, the system pursued by the administration of 
Ireland. I am aware it m^y be urged that a statement, 
such as I am about to lay before your lordships, is calculated 
to interfere too much with the internal government of the 
sister kingdom. In answer to this assertion, I would, if 
necessary, begin by laying it down as an incontrovertible 
opinion, that we have so direct a concern and connexion 
with Ireland, that any error of government in that country 
is a fit subject for our attention; and if circumstances re- 
quired it, for an address to his majesty for the removal o£ 



400 APPENDIX. 

the chief governor. My lords, this observation applies 
not in any manner to the present lord-lieutenant; on the 
contrary, I will pay him the tribute which I think due to 
him, that to much private worth and honor, his lordship 
adds, I believe, very sincere wishes for the happiness of 
tiie kingdom which has been placed under his government. 
My lords, I have seen in Ireland the most absurd as well 
as the most disgusting tyranny that any nation ever 
groaned under. I have been myself a witness of it in 
many instances; I have seen it practised and unchecked; 
and the effects that have resulted from it, have been such 
as I have stated to your lordships. I have said, that if 
such a tyranny be persevered in, the consequence must 
inevitably be, the deepest and most universal discontent, 
and even hatred to the English name. I have seen in that 
country a marked distinction made between the English 
and Irish. I have seen troops that have been sent full of 
this prejudice, that every inhabitant in that kingdom is a 
rebel to the British government. I have seen the most 
wanton insults practised upon men of all ranks and condi- 
tions. I have seen the most grievous oppressions exer- 
cised, in consequence of a presumption, that the person 
who was the unfortunate object of such oppression, was in 
hostility to the government; ani§ yet that has been done in 
a part of the country as quiet and as free from disturbance 
as the city of London. Who states these things, my lords, 
should, I know, be prepared with proofs. I am prepared 
with them. Many of the Circumstances I know of my 
own knowledge; others I have received from such chan- 
nels as will not permit me to hesitate one moment in giv- 
ing credit to them. 
"His lordship then observed, that from education and 



APPENDIX. l< . 

early habits, the Curfew was ever considered by Britons as a 
badge of slavery and oppression. It then was practised in 
Ireland with brutal rigor. He had known an instance, where 
a master of a house had in vain pleaded to be allowed the. 
use of a candle to enable the mother to administer relief t^ 
her daughter, struggling in convulsive fits. In former 
times, it had been the custom for Englishmen to hold the 
infamous proceedings of the inquisition in detestation; one 
of the greatest horrors with which it was attended was, 
that the person, ignorant of the crime laid to his charge, 
or of his accuser, was torn from his family, immured in a 
prison, and in the most cruel uncertainty as to the period 
of his confinement, or the fate which awaited him. To 
this injustice, abhorred by Protestants in the practice of 
the inquisition, were the people of Ireland exposed. All 
confidence, all security, were taken away. In alluding to 
the inquisition, he had omitted to mention one of its char- 
cteristic features; if the supposed culprit refused to 
acknowledge the crime with which he was charged, he 
was put to the rack, to extort confession of whatever 
crime was alleged against him by the pressure of tor- 
ture. The same proceedings had been introduced in Ire- 
land. When a man was taken up on suspicion, he was put 
to the torture; uay, if he were merely accused of conceal- 
ing the guilt of another. The rack, indeed, was not at 
hand; but the punishment of picqueting was in practice, 
which had been for some years abolished, as too inhuman, 
even in the dragoon service. He had known a man, in 
order to extort confession of a supposed crime, or of that 
of some of his neighbors, picquetted until he actually faint- 
ed; picqueted a second time until he fainted again; and as 
soon as he came to himself, picqueted a third time until 

3C 



40£ APPENDIX. 

he once more Fainted; and all upon mere suspicion! Nor 
was this the only species of torture; men had heen taken 
and hung up until they were half dead, and then threaten- 
ed with a repetition of the cruel treatment, unless they 
made confession of the imputed guilt. These were not 
particular acts of cruelty, exercised by men abusing the 
power committed to them, but they formed a part of our 
-system. They were notorious, and no person could say 
who would be the next victim of this oppression and cruelty 
which he saw others endure. This, however, was not all; 
their lordships, no doubt, would recollect the famous proc- 
lamation issued by a military commander in Ireland, re- 
quiring the people to give up their arms; it never was de- 
nied that this proclamation was illegal, though defended 
on some supposed necessity; but it was not surprising that 
any reluctance had been shewn to comply with it, by men 
who conceived the constitution gave them a right to keep 
arms in their houses for their own defence; and they could 
not but feel indignation in being called upon to give up 
their right. In the execution of the order, the greatest 
cruelties had been committed; if any one was suspected 
to have concealed weapons of defence^ his house, his furni- 
ture, and all his property, was burnt; but this was not all; 
if it were supposed that any district had not surrendered 
all the arms which it contained, a party was sent out 
to collect the number at which it was rated, and in the ex- 
ecution of this order thirty houses were sometimes burnt 
down in a single night. Officers took upon themselves to 
decide discretionally the quantity of arms, and upon their 
opinions these fatal consequences followed. Many such 
cases might be enumerated; but from prudential motives 
lie wished to draw a veil over more aggravated facts, 



APPFNDIX. 403 

which he could have stated, and which he was willing to 
attest before the privy council or at their lordships' har. 
These facts were well known in Ireland; but they could not 
be made public through the channel of the newspapers, for 
fear of that summary mode of punishment which had been 
practised towards the Northern Star, when a party of 
troops in open day, and in a town where the general's 
head-quarters were, went and destroyed all the offices and 
property belonging to that paper. His lordship concluded, 
with intreating the house to take into serious consideration 
the present measures which, instead of removing discon- 
tents, had increased the number of the discontented. The 
moment of conciliation was not yet passed; but if the sys- 
tem were not changed, he was convinced Ireland would 
not remain connected with this country five years longer." 
His lordship did not then foresee the kind of connection in- 
tended. 



Extracts from the speech of the same nobleman, delivered in 
the Irish House of Lords, on the 19th of February, 1798. 

"That many individuals had been torn from their fam- 
ilies, and locked up for months in the closest confinement, 
without hearing by whom they were accused, with what 
crime they were charged, or to what means they might re- 
cur to prove their innocence; that great numbers of houses 
had been burned, with the whole property of the wretched 
owners, upon the loosest supposition of even petty trans- 
gressions; that torture, by which he meant picqueting and 
half hanging, continued to be used to extort from the suf~ 



■4Q4 APPENDIX. 

fcrcrs a charge against his neighbors." If lie should be 
contradicted with respect to these facts, he professed him- 
self prepared to "produce the affidavits of them," and de- 
clared his intention of moving "for the examination of the 
deponents at the bar. If there be delinquencies, there 
must be delinquents: Prove their guilt, and punish them; 
but do not, on a loose charge of partial transgression, im- 
pose infliction on the whole community. The state of so- 
ciety was dreadful indeed, when the safety of every man 
was at the mercy of a secret informer; when the cupidity, 
the malevolence, or the erroneous suspicions of an individ- 
ual were sufficient to destroy his neighbor." 



COMMITTEE OF ELDERS. 

From Mr. Grattan's Speech against the motion of the at- 
torney-general, fcr certain additional measures of coercion, 
in the Irish House of Commons, February 20, 1796. 

Their modes of outrage were as various as they were 
atrocious; they sometimes forced, by terror, the masters of 
families to dismiss their Catholic servants; they some- 
times forced landlords, by terror, to dismiss their Catholic 
tenantry; they seized, as deserters, numbers of Catholic 
weavers, sent them to the county gaol, transmitted them to 
Dublin, where they remained in close prison, until some 
lawyers, from compassion, pleaded their cause, and pro- 
cured their enlargement; nothing appearing against them 
of any kind whatsoever. Those insurgents, who called 
themselves Orange Boys> or Protestant Boys, that is, a 
banditti of murderers, committing massacre in the name 



APPENDIX. 105 

of God, and exercising despotic power in the name of lib- 
erty; those insurgents had organised their rebellion, and 
formed, themselves into a committee, who sat and tried the 
Catholic weavers and inhabitants, when apprehended false- 
ly and illegally as deserters. That rebellious committee, 
they called the committee of Elders, who, when the unfor- 
tunate Catholic was torn from his family and his loom 
and brought before them, sat in judgment upon his case; 
if he gave them liquor or money, they sometimes dis- 
charged him, otherwise they sent him to a recruiting oilce 
as a deserter. They had very generally given the Catho- 
lics notice to quit their farms and dwellings, which notice 
was plaistercd on the house, and conceived in these short 
but plain words: "Go to hell, Connaught won't receive 
you— fire and faggot. Will Tresham and John Thrust- 
out." That they followed these notices by a faithful and 
punctual execution of the horrid threat; soon after visited 
the house, robbed the family, and destroyed what they did 
not take, and finally completed the atrocious persecutions, 
by forcing the unfortunate inhabitants to leave their land, 
their dwellings and their trade, and to travel with their 
miserable family, and whatever their miserable family 
gould save from the wreck of their houses and tenements, 
and take refuge in villages, as fortifications against in- 
vaders, where they described themselves, as he had seen in 
their affidavits, in the following manner: "We (mention- 
ing their names) formerly of Armagh, weavers, now of 
no fixed place of abode or means of living, Sec. 9 ' In many 
instances this banditti of persecution threw down the 
houses of the tenantry, or what they call racked the house 
so that the family must fly or be buried in the grave of their 
own cabin. The extent of the murders that had been com- 



406 APPfiJSDIX. 

milted by tkat atrocious and rebellious banditti he bad 
heard, but had not heard them so ascertained as to state 
them to that house; but from all the enquiries he could 
make, he collected, that the Catholic inhabitants of Ar- 
magh had been actually put out of the protection of the 
law; that the magistrates had been supine or partial, and 
that the horrid banditti had met with complete success, 
and from the magistracy with very little discouragement. 
(O^They were afterwards identified with the govern- 
ment,, not only in Ireland, but in England. 



The words of Lord Edward Fitzgerald, on the same 
Occasion. 
(i l shall oppose this resolution, because I think that 
this resolution will not prevent the crimes of which the 
right honorable gentleman complains; the disturbances of 
the country, sir, are not to be remedied by any coercive meas- 
ures, however strong; such measures will tend rather to ex- 
asperate than to remove the evil. Nothing, sir, can effect 
this and restore tranquility to the country, but a serious, 
a candid endeavor of government and of this house, to re- 
dress the grievances of the people. Redress those, and 
the people will return to their allegiance and their duty; 
suffer them to continue, and neither your resolutions nor 
your bills will have any effect: I shall therefore, sir, op- 
pose not only this resolution, but all the resolutions which 
the right honorable gentleman has read to you, except peiv 
haps one, that which goes to constitute the written testi- 
mony of a dying witness, good evidence. This, I think, 



APPENDIX. 407 

is fair and likely to facilitate the course of justice, without 
violently infringing, as all the other resolutions seem to do, 
the liberty of the subject." 

{Q^Lord Edward was not at this time, nor for a lone; 
time after, a United Irishman, much less had he thought of 
any alliance with France. 



MOLL DOYLE. 



The notices of the government-men, in the counties of 
Wexford and Wicklow, in the years 1798, 1799 and 1800, 
ran thus: A — B — . We give you notice in five days to 
quit; or if you don't, by God, we will visit your house 
with lire, and yourself with lead. We are the Grinders, 
JMoll Boyle's true grandsons. 



MOLL DOYLE AGAIN. 

On the estate of Mr. Swiny, called Court, when the leases 
of the tenants, who were Catholics, expired, the same 
KING'S CONSCIENCE-MEN posted the following 
Proclamations: 

Let no Papist presume to take lands; and even if a 
son of Moll Doyle should offer more than half a guinea 
an acre ( worth fifty shillings J he shall forfeit all privi- 
leges of the fraternity, and undergo the same punishment 
for his transgressions, as if he was a Papist. The lands, 
In consequence, remained waste for nearly two years. 



408 APPENDIX. 

(Q^Moll Doyle, the adopted grandmother of these 
ruffians, was nothing more than a metaphor, meaning 
the King's Conscience. This threat of lowering the 
rents, first alarmed the guilty landlords, and made them 
feel the danger of extermination. 

It may not he amiss to contrast with this gross barbari- 
ty the proclamation of a Rebel General, and the Dy^ 
ing declaration of a Rebel. 



TO THE PEOPLE OF IRELAND. 

Countrymen and Fellow-Soldiers/ 

Your patriotic exertions in the cause of your country, 
have hitherto exceeded your most sanguine expectations, 
and in a short time must ultimately be crowned with suc- 
cess. Liberty has raised her drooping head, thousands 
daily flock to her standards, the voice of her children every 
where prevails. Let us then, in the moment of triumph; 
return thanks to the Almighty Ruler of the Universe, that 
a total stop has been put to those sanguinary measures, 
which of late were but too often resorted to by the crea- 
tures of government, to keep the people in slavery. 

Nothing now, my countrymen, appears necessary to se- 
cure the conquests you have already won, but an implicit 
obedience to the commands of your chiefs; for through a 
want of proper subordination and discipline, all may be 
changed. 

At this eventful period all Europe must admire, and pos- 
terity will read with astonishment, the heroic acts achieved 
by people, strangers to military tactics, and having few 



APPENDIX. 409 

professional commanders; but what power can resist men 
fighting for liberty? 

In the moment of triumph, my countrymen, let not your 
victories be tarnished with any wanton act of cruelty; 
many of those unfortunate men now in prison were not 
your enemies from principle; most of them, compelled by 
necessity, were obliged to oppose you; neither let a differ- 
ence in religious sentiments cause a difference among the 
people. Recur to the debates in the Irish house of lords 
on the 19th of February last; you will there see a patriotic 
and enlightened Protestant bishop (Down) and many of 
the lay lords, with manly eloquence, pleading for Catholic 
emancipation and parliamentary reform, in opposition to 
the haughty arguments of the lord chancellor, and the 
powerful opposition of his fellow-courtiers. 

To promote a union of brotherhood and affection among 
our countrymen of all religious persuasions, has been our 
principal object; we have sworn in the most solemn man- 
ner, have associated from this laudable purpose, and no 
power on earth shall shake our resolution. 

To my Protestant fellow-soldiers I feel much indebted 
for their gallant behaviour in the field, where they exhibited 
signal proofs of bravery in the cause. 

EDWARD ROCHE, 

Wexford, June 7, 1798. 



DYING DECLARATION OF WILLIAM ORR. 

My Friends and Countrymen, 
In the thirty-first year of my life, I have been sentenced 
to die upon the gallows, and this sentence has been in pur- 

30 



410 APPENDIX* 

suance of a verdict of twelve men, who should have been 
indifferently and impartially chosen; how far they have 
been so, I leave to that country from which they have been 
chosen, to determine; and how far they have discharged 
their duty, I leave to their God and to themselves. They 
have, in pronouncing their verdict, thought proper to re- 
commend me as an object of human mercy; in return, I 
pray to God, if they have erred, to have mercy upon them. 
The judge, who condemned me, humanely shed tears in ut- 
tering my sentence; but whether he did wisely, in so 
highly commending the wretched informer who swore 
away my life, I leave to his own cool reflection, solemnly 
assuring him and all the world, with my dying breath, 
that the informer was forsworn. The law under which I 
suffer, is surely a severe one; may the makers and 
promoters of it, be justified in the integrity of their motives 
and the purity of their own lives. By that law, I am 
stamped a felon, but my heart disdains the imputation. 
My comfortable lot and industrious course of life, best re- 
fute the charge of being an adventurerer for plunder; but if 
to have loved my country, to have known its wrongs, to 
have felt the injuries of the persecuted Catholics, and to 
have united with them and all other religious persuasions, 
in the most orderly and least sanguinary means of procur- 
ing redress; if those be felonies, I am a felon, but not other- 
wise. Had my counsel,* for whose honorable exertions I 



*The indictment was under the insurrection act for admin- 
istering the obligation to religious union. The informer in 
his zeal, added some conversation about joining the French. 
Upon -which Mr. Curran and I, who were his counsel, moved 
that he should be discharged of that indictment, as the offence, 
if the witness was at all credible, would be treason under the 
Stat. Ed. III. Our motives were these, that under this in- 



APPENDIX. 411 

am indebted, prevailed in their motion to have me tried 
for high treason, rather than under the insurrection law, 
I should have been entitled to a full defence, and my ac- 
tions and intentions have been better vindicated; but that 
was refused, and I must now submit to what has passed. 

To the generous protection of my country, I leave a be- 
loved wife, who has been constant and true to me, and 
whose grief for my fate has already nearly occasioned her 
death. I leave five living children, who have been my de- 
light; may they love their country as I have done, and die 
for it if needful. 

Lastly, a false and ungenerous publication having ap- 
peared in a newspaper, stating certain alleged confessions 
of guilt on my part, and thus striking at my reputation, 
which is dearer to me than life, I take this solemn method 
of contradicting that calumny. I was applied to by the 
high sheriff, and the Rev. William Bristow, sovereign of 
Belfast, to make a confession of guilt, who used entreaties 
to that effect; this I peremptorily refused; did I think my- 
self guilty, I should be free to confess it, but on the con- 
trary, I glory in my innocence. 

I trust that all my virtuous countrymen will bear me in 
their kind remembrance, and continue true and faithful to 
each other, as I have been to all of them. With this last 

dictment the witness had only to swear a predetermined oath 
%o the administering of a printed test, put into his hand merely 
to be sworn to> and his counsel could not be heard to the facts. 
Under the law of treason, he would have had a full defence 
upon the law and the fact, and have been undoubtedly acquit- 
ted; although even then, he would have had but half the priv- 
ilege of an Englishman, as in treason two witnesses are re- 
quired to take away the life of an Englishman; one is heid 
enough to swear away that of an Irishman. For the further 
history of this case see Curran's speech for Peter Finerty. 



412 APPENDIX. 

wish of my heart, not doubting of the success of that cause 
for which I suffer, and hoping for God^s merciful forgive- 
ness of such offences as my frail nature may have at any 
time betrayed me into, I die in peace and charity with all 
mankind. 

WILLIAM ORR. 
Corrickfergus Goal, October 5, 1798. 



PROTESTANT FANATICISM. 

It is an injustice to charge the Catholics in the late re- 
bellion with bigotry or fanaticism, and not to mention a 
fact which puts it beyond a doubt, that the no Popery Fac- 
tion were infinitely the most bigotted, and if bigotry be Po- 
pery, much the most Papistical. 

Mr. Hay has given a list of the Roman Catholic Chap- 
els, burned by the loyalists or peep-of-day-boys, in the 
county of Wexford, with the dates of their several confla- 
grations, amounting to thirty-three* And Mr. Plowden 
has cited an official list of upward of seventy, damaged or 
destroyed by the said government boys* 



APPENDIX, 413 



SACRILEGE. 



The following fact is enough to stamp the English and 
their Adherents in Ireland, with everlasting infamy. It 
is from Mr. Hay's History of the Wexford Insurrection, 
'page 301, where he tndy observes, that no such atro~ 
city can, at any period, he imputed to the most infuri- 
ated pike-men. 
At the summer assizes of Wexford, in 1801, James 
Redmond was tried and condemned for murder; and pur- 
suant to his sentence was executed on the 30th of July, and 
his body delivered to the surgeons, who, after dissecting 
it, permitted it to be taken away, and it was buried. The 
corpse was dug up out of its grave, and placed in the shed 
erected for the priest to officiate on the scite of the Catho- 
lic Chapel of Monamoling, which had been burned. This 
exhibition was not discovered until the congregation had 
assembled to hear mass on the Sunday following, the 3d of 
August, 1801. 



GENERAL MURPHY. 

"The rebel general Murphey, when led to execution was 
tauntingly desired to work miracles, and otherwise scoffed 
at and insulted by a young officer, who went the length of 
offering a most indecent insult to his person, which so ir- 
ritated his feelings, that, though on the very brink of eter- 
nity, he doubled his fist and knocked down the officer in a 
blow; upon which he was unmercifully flagellated and in* 
stantly hanged." 



414 ArPENDix, 



IRISH LAW. 



<'Lv the barony of Lower Orion, in the county of Ar- 
magh, one Birch, under a military escort, with his hands 
tied behind him, was cut down by the sergeant, and died 
of his wounds; the pretext was, that some countrymen, at- 
tracted by curiosity, came near them and intended to at- 
tempt a rescue; and on the night of the wake of the de- 
ceased, some soldiers under the command of colonel Spar- 
row, broke into the house, took out the corpse, and severely 
wounded and mangled those who were in the house. 

"A party of the Essex Fencibles burned the house and 
furniture of one Potter, a respectable farmer, because his 
wife, who had seven infant children, either would not or 
could not tell where her husband was. Another party of 
the same regiment quartered at Enniskillen, broke open 
the house of Farmer Durman, at two o'clock, murdered 
one and wounded another of his sons while in bed. The 
like outrages were committed at Coolairll, upon one Price, 
an innkeeper, and his daughter, who were both dangerously 
wounded. 

"The colonel was tried and found guilty, but he had the 
king's pardon in his pocket, which he produced upon the 
sentence being pronounced against him." 

03*1 was present at the above transaction; and on the 
same circuit at Carrickfergus, I was counsel for Joseph 
Cuthbert and a number of others, who, after a year's im- 
prisonment, were tried and acquitted. Immediately upon 
their acquittal, the public prosecutor produced a warrant 
under the suspension of the Habeas Carpus M 9 and they 
were committed afresh to the hands of the gaoler, as sus- 
pected. 



APPENDIX. 414* 

ANOTHER INSTANCE. 

Mr. WALTER DEVEREAUX. 

"I cannot omit here mentioning the case of Mr. Walter 
Devereaux, who, having obtained protections from several 
general officers, had gone to Cork to embark for Portugal; 
he was there taken up, tried, condemned and executed. 
Mr. Gibson, a yeoman and wealthy Protestant shopkeeper, 
and Mr. William Kearney, an extensive brewer, were 
summoned and attended at his trial, and proved that he 
was in Wexford, and even in gaol, at the very time some 
soldiers of the Wexford militia were shot, thirty miles from 
that town; and the principal charge against him was, that 
he gave orders, and was present at their execution, which 
some men of that regiment were hardened enough to swear? 
I myself saw him in Wexford on the alleged day. He was 
also accused of aiding and abetting the abominations at 
Scullabogue, and this charge was similarly supported by 
the testimony of some soldiers' wives! and ytt it is an un- 
doubted fact, that he was all that day engaged at the battle 
of Ross, where he displayed the most heroic bravery and 
Courage, qualities inconsistent with the odious crime it was 
falsely sworn he had perpetrated! But what puts the false- 
hood of the facts alleged against him beyond all question 
is, that after his execution, another Mr. Devereaux was 
taken up on the discriminating sagacity of the same wit- 
nesses, who prosecuted the former to death; but who now, 
as they said, discovered the right Devereaux. The trial 
of the latter has been published, and I would recommend 
its perusal to such as wish further information." 



416 APPENDIX. 



ANOTHER, 



MICHAEL EGAJW 

"We have taken particular pains to be informed of the 
sequel of the story of Michael and Thomas Egan, the 
father and son, who underwent so barbarous and brutal a 
persecution in the village of Dunlavin, in the county of 
Wicklow; being, as we have already stated, dragged nak- 
ed from their beds, in the dead hour of night; the father's 
bones broken by officers and yeomen; for to the immortal 
honor of the poor Irish soldiers, they refused to take part 
in the atrocity; whilst the son was hanged three times, in 
the presence of his aged father, with every aggravating cir- 
cumstance of barbarity; and this without any color of legal 
authority whatever, but avowedly by the inhuman and ille- 
gal process of torture, to extort accusations from the agony 
of the sufferers. Upon the son's refusing a bribe, the fath- 
er was violently beaten before his face. 

"The young man w T as cut down senseless, his tongue 
hanging out of his mouth; but was nevertheless kept sever- 
al days in the guard-house. In six days he was taken, 
with his hands tied behind his back, to Wicklow gaol, 
where he remained, in the most monstrous contempt and 
violation of the law, in a dismal cell, loaded with very hea- 
vy irons. 

"He was then brought up to the quarter sessions at 
Baltin glass, and an indictment read to him, charging him 
with having spoken seditious words. He was then remand- 
ed, and not delivered till he gave bail in so extravagant a 
sum as Jive hundred pounds. The words, we understand, 
with which he was charged, were fitter to excite laughter, 



APPENDIX. 4 I f 

than to sanction any such persecution; and upon his appear- 
ance at Baiting-lass, the prosecuter thought fit to quash his 
indictment; and Mr. Fowler, a principal party, was him- 
self held to hail, upon the information of Michael Egan 
against him, and is to answer at the next assizes at Wick- 
low, when the whole will he brought fairly to light, for which 
reason we forbear from being more particular at present. 

"We hear that the friends "of the poor sufferers took 
down counsel especially to protect them, viz. Counsellors 
Sampson and Bennett." 

(ji^pThe above facts are stated short of the truth. 
When the defendant came into court, he found it filled with 
the very soldiery who had committed these barbarous 
crimes against his father and himself. He found those 
under whose orders, and by whose help they had done 
those acts, seated on the bench of justice to try him. Be- 
tween those military justices who had first tortured him, 
and were now his accusers and judges, and their guards, 
there was only a thin loose canvas, through which, for 
more terror, the bayonet's points were visible. 

The court thought proper to quash the indictment, and 
we prevailed so far as to oblige one of the judges to come 
down from the bench and give bail to answer the charge of 
the accused. This effort was not without risk of our lives* 
Mr. Emmet and I had obtained a rule in the king's bench 
for an information; but before the case could be tried, he, 
Mr. Bennet and I, were all put in goal. 



Se 



418 APPENDIX* 



BLOODT EXECUTIONS OF WEXFORD. 

"The entrance of the wooden bridge was the scene fix 
ed on for the place of execution. The sufferers were haul- 
ed up with pullies, made fast with ropes to an ornamental 
iron arch, intended for lamps, and springing from the two 
wooden piers of the gate next the town. The large stat- 
ure of the Rev. Philip Roche caused the first rope he was 
hauled up with to break; but another was soon procured, 
and his life was ended with double torture. The head of 
captain Keugh, who suffered along with him, was separat- 
ed from his body and conspicuously placed on a pike over 
the front of the court-house. Their bodies, together with 
those of others executed at the same time, were stripped 
and treated with the utmost brutality and indecency, pre- 
vious to their being thrown over the bridge. 

"Mr. Grogan was brought to trial, but the evidence 
which he hoped to obtain of his innocence, did not attend, 
on account of the general apprehension which prevailed. 
His trial was therefore postponed, and he was remanded to 
gaol. Mr. Harvey was then put on his trial, which lasted 
for the best part of the day, and ended in his condemna- 
tion. 

"Mr. Grogan's trial was then resumed; but this he did 
not expect until the next day, and consequently he had not 
been able to procure all the necessary evidence. It was 
indeed proved, that he was forced to join the insurgents, 
but this did not prevent a sentence of his conviction: such 
was the idea entertained at the time, of the necessity of 
public example! The condemnation of these gentlemen 
was afterwards confirmed by the Irish parliament, which 



APPENDIX. 419 

passed an act of attainder against them, and a confiscation 
of their properties; notwithstanding that, on parliamentary* 
enquiry into the merits of the proceedings, it was clearly 
proved, that the court-martial had not been even sworn: so 
that, although their condemnation and the confiscation of 
their properties be sanctioned by law, yet the justice of the 
process is very questionable, and the investigation of it 
will employ the pens of future historians; particularly in 
the case of Mr. Grogan, who was undoubtedly sacrificed 
to the temper of the times. On the following day, Messrs. 
Harvey, Grogan, and Mr. Patrick Pendergast, a rich 
maltster in Wexford, were ordered out to execution. 
When Mr. Harvey was brought out of his cell, he met Mr. 
Grogan in the gaol-yard, and accosted him in a feeling af- 
fectionate manner; while shaking hands with him, he said, 
in the presence of an officer and some of the guards, and in 
the hearing of several prisoners, who had crowded to the 
windows, "Ah! poor Grogan, you die an innocent man at 
all events." They were then conducted to the bridge, 
where they were hanged, when the heads of Messrs. Gro- 
gan a,nd Harvey were cut off, and placed upon pikes on 
eacli side of that of captain Keugh, while their bodies, and 
that of Mi'. Prendergast, were stript and treated with the 
usual brutal indecencies, before being cast over the bridge! 
Mr. Colclough was brought out to trial on the same day, 
and condemned. On the next day he was executed, but his 
body, at the intercession of his lady, was given up to her 
to be interred. Mr. John Kelly, of Killan, whose courage 
and intrepidity had been so conspicuous at the battle of 
Ross, now lay ill in Wexfcrd, of a wound which he had re, 
ceived in that engagement; he was taken prisoner from his 
bed, tried and condemned to die, and brought on a car to 



420 ArPENDIX, 

the place of execution. His head was cut off, and his body, 
after the accustomed indignities, was thrown over the 
bridge. The head, however, was reserved for other exhi- 
bitions. It was first kicked about on the custom-house- 
quay, and then brought up into the town, thrown up and 
treated in the same manner opposite the house in which his 
sister lodged, in order that she might view this new and 
savage game at foot-ball, of which, when the players were 
tired, the head was placed in the exalted situation to which 
it had been condemned, above that of captain Keugh, over 
the door of the court-house/' 



CANNIBAL. 



<»A young man, of the name of Walsh, was brought into 
JNaas, who was said by a female to be the person who shot 
captain Swayne, in the action at Prosperous. It is now 
well known that he was not within sixteen miles of Pros- 
perous, when the action took place there; nevertheless, he 
was taken without any form of trial to the ship, and there 
hanged, dragged naked through the street to the lower end 
of the town, and there set fire to; and when half burned, his 
body opened, his heart taken out, and put on the point of a 
Wattle, which was instantly placed on the top of a house, 
where it remained until taken down by one of the military, 
who marched into town about nine weeks after. When the 
body had been almost consumed, a large piece of it was 
brought into the next house, where the mistress of it, Mrs. 
Newland, was obliged to furnish a knife, fork, and plate, 
and an old woman of the name of Daniel, was obliged to 



APPENDIX. 421 

bring them salt. These two women heard them say, 'that 
Paddy ate sweet/ and confirmed it, with a <d — n their 
eyes.' These women are living and worthy of credit, be- 
ing judged honest and respectable in their line and situa- 
tion of life." 



ANOTHER. 

"On a public day in the week preceding the insurrec- 
tion, the town of Gorey beheld the triumphal entry of Mr. 
Gowan at the head of his corps, with his sword drawn, and 
a human finger stuck on the point of it. 

"With this trophy he marched into the town, parading 
up and down the streets several times, so that there was 
not a person in Gorey who did not witness this exhibition; 
while in the mean time the triumphant corps displayed all 
the devices of Orangemen. After the labor and fatigue of 
the day, Mr. Gowan and his men retired to a public house 
to refresh themselves, and, like true blades of game, their 
punch was stirred about with the finger that had graced 
their ovation, in imitation of keen fox-hunters, who whisk 
a bowl of punch with the brush of a fox before their booz- 
ing commences. This captain and magistrate afterwards 
went to the house of Mr. Jones, where his daughters were, 
and while taking a snack that was set before him, he 
bragged of having blooded his corps that day, and that 
they were as staunch blood-hounds as any in the world. 
The daughters begged of their father to shew them the 
croppy finger, which he deliberately took from his pocket 
and handed to them. Misses dandled it about with sense- 
less exultation, at which a young lady in the room was so 



422 APPENDIX. 

shocked, that she turned about to a window, holding her 
hand to her face to avoid the horrid sight. Mr. Gowan 
perceiving this, took the finger from his daughters, and 
archly dropped it into the disgusted lady's bosom. She 
instantly fainted, and thus the scene ended! Mr. Gowan 
constantly boasted of this and other similar heroic actions, 
which he repeated in the presence of brigade major Fitz- 
gerald, on whom he waited officially, but so far from meet- 
ing his applause, the major obliged him instantly to leave 
the company." 



BLOODY PARSON. 

The following atrocity happened in the county of Longford. 

"The Rev. Mr. M , a parson magistrate, dined at 

the house of a Mr. Kn — t, near Newtown, and was hospit- 
ably entertained; another gentleman named F — ns, was 
present. The parson drank punch, and having mentioned 
that a man in the neighboring village had remarkable good 
whiskey; the servant was dispatched at nine at night for a 
bottle of it. The poor man went accordingly, and soon 
returned, and made the bottle into punch for his master's 
guests. When it was finished, the parson took his leave, 
having called for an orderly constable named Rawlins, who 
always attended him. He then told Mr. K. that that ras- 
cal (alluding to the poor servant who had gone a mile in 
the dark to procure liquor for this monster) was a damned 
United Irishman, and he must take him up. Mr. K. re- 
monstrated, and as well as Mr. F. — , informed this Rever- 
end Justice, that during two years he ljad lived with him., 



APPENDIX. 423 

and had no fault, they believed him to be a harmless hon- 
est man. Mr. M insisted on his prisoner going with 

him; the gentlemen, after using every remonstrance, and 
offering bail, were obliged to give up the servant. Mr. F. 
was to go part of the same road that M- — took, and ac- 
cordingly went with him and witnessed the horrible trans- 
action that shortly happened. When they had gone about 
half a mile, the parson who had been using every sort of 
opprobrious language to his prisoner, desired an immediate 
confession. The poor man could not make any, on which 
he ordered the police constable to shoot him, who answer- 
ed, Not I really, sir. 

"Then give me your gun — on your knees, villain — I give 
you but two minutes to pray! The man fell on his knees, 
and prayed for mercy. The constable and other gentle- 
men interfered; but the parson directly shot his victim* 
and left him there. 

"A coroner's inquest found a verdict; and the grand 
jury of the county of Longford, found a true bill for wilful 
murder ■; and yet there has been no trial; and Parson M — - 
is still at large, and no doubt ready to continue the system 
of murder, burning and transporting, for the sake of re- 
ligion and good government. (See Beauties of the Press, 
p. 459. 



WALKING- G ALLOWS . 



"A lieutenant, well known by the name of the "Walking- 
Gallows, at the head of a party of the Wicklow regiment, 
marched to a plac* called Gardenstown, in Westmeath. 



4&4 APPENDIX. 

They went to the house of an old man named Carroll, of 
seventy years and upwards, and asked for arms; and hav- 
ing promised protection and indemnity, the old man deliv- 
ered up to this monster three guns, which he no sooner re- 
ceived; than he, with his own hands, shot the old man 
through the heart, and then had his sons (two young men) 
butchered; burned and destroyed their house, corn, hay, 
and in short whatever property they possessed. The wife 
and child of one of the sons were inclosed in the house, 
when set fire to, and would have been burned, had not one 
of the soldiers begged their lives from the officer; but on 
condition that if the bitch (using his own words) made the 
least noise, they should share the same fate as the rest of 
the family. This bloody transaction happened about two 
o'clock on Monday morning, the 19th of June, 1797. He 
pressed a car, on which the three bodies were thrown; and 
from thence went to a village called Moyvore, took in cus- 
tody three men, named Henry Smith, John Smith, and 
Michael Murray, under pretence of their being United 
Irishmen; and having tied them to the car on which the 
mangled bodies of the Carroll's were placed, they were 
marched about three miles, possing in the blood of their 
murdered neighbors, and at three o'clock on the same 
day were shot on the fair green of Bally more; and so uni- 
versal was the panic, that a man could not be procured to 
inter the six dead bodies; the sad office -was obliged to be 
done by women. The lieutenant, on the morning of this 
deliberate and sanguinary murder, invited several gentle- 
men to stay and see what he called partridge-shooting. It 
may not be improper to remark that lord Oxmantown re- 
monstrated with the officers on the monstrous cruelty of 
putting these men to death, who might be. tried by the 



APPENDIX. 425 

laws of their country and appear innocent. He begged 
and intreated to have them sent to a gaol, and prosecuted 
according to law (if any proof could be brought against 
them) but his humane efforts proved fruitless; the men 
were murdered! 

"On the fair day of Ballymore, 5t\\ of June, a poor 
man, of irreproachable character, named Keenan, after 
selling his cow, had his hand extended to receive the price 
of her; when this valiant soldier struck him with his 
sword on the shoulder, and almost severed the arm from 
his body. 

A young man named Hynes, a mason, passing through 
the fair on his way home, was attacked by this furious sav- 
age, and in the act of begging his life upon his knees, was 
cut down by the lieutenant's own hands, and left lying for 
dead. A clergyman, at the imminent risk of his life, flew 
to the victim to administer the last consolation of religion, 
when three of the militia were ordered back, and to make 
use of a vulgar phrase, made a riddle of his body; the 
clergyman, however, escaped unhurt. The lieutenant got 
somewhat ashamed of his abuses and, by way of apology 
for his conduct, alleged that some stones were thrown, 
though it is a notorious fact that no such thing happened. 

"The clerk of Mr. Dillon, of Ballymahon, being in the 
fair transacting his employer's business, was so maimed by 
this valiant soldier and his party, that his life was des- 
paired of. Sixteen persons, whose names I have carefully 
entered, were so cut, maimed and abused, that many of 
them are rendered miserable objects for the remainder of 
their lives. So much for keeping the peace of the coun- 
try; to create inhabitants for the hospital or the grave, 
seems to be the favorite measure of tranquilizing a nation, 

3p 



426 APPENDIX, 

"A village called Mayvore, was almost at the dead hour 
of the night set on fire, under the direction of captain — 
and the humane lieutenant, and burnt to the ground, ex- 
cept six houses. Captain O — , possessing a little more 
humanity, seemed to feel for the unparalleled distress there- 
by occasioned, while this modern Nero only laughed at 
the progress of the destructive element, and called his 
brother officer a chicken-hearted fellow for his seeming 
compassion, for feeling a pang at the miseries he himself 
created; seeing numbers of his fellow-creatures petrified 
with horror at viewing their little properties consumed, 
and afraid to make the least complaint; seeing that milita- 
ry execution was their inevitable fate, should they make 
the least murmur. Good God! is this the way to make 
the constitution revered, or the government respected? 
Had lord North still lived, and had the confidence qf Majesty, 
he would never recommend the practice of those measures 
to save Ireland, which lost America." ( Extracts from the 
Press, p. 284.J 



TOM THE DEVIi. 

"It is said that the North Cork regiment were the in- 
venters, but they certainly were the introducers of the 
pitch-cap torture into the county of Wexford. Any per- 
son having the hair cut short (and therefore called croppy, 
by which appellation the soldiers designated an United 
Irishman) on being pointed out by some loyal neighbour 
was immediately seized and brought into a guard-house, 
where caps either of coarse linen or strong brown paper, 
besmeared inside with pitch, were always kept ready for 
service. The unfortunate victim had one of these well 



APPENDIX. 427 

heated, compressed on his head, and when judged of a 
proper degree of coolness, so that it could not be easily 
pulled off, the sufferer was turned out amidst the horrid 
acclamations of the merciless torturers, and to the view of 
vast numbers of people, who generally crowded about the 
guard-house door, attracted by the afflicted cries of the 
tormented. Many of those persecuted in this manner, 
experienced anguish from the melted pitch trickling into 
their eyes. This afforded a rare addition of enjoyment 
to these keen sportsmen, who reiterated their horrid yells 
of exultation, on repetition of the several accidents to 
which their game was liable upon being turned out; for in 
the confusion and hurry of escaping from the ferocious, 
hands of these more than savage tormenters, the blinded 
victims frequently fell or inadvertantly dashed their heads 
against the walls in their way. The pain of disengaging 
the pitched cap from the head must have been next to in- 
tolerable. The hair was often torn out by the roots, and 
not unfrequently parts of the skin were so scalded or blis- 
tered as to adhere and come off along with it. The terror 
and dismay which these outrages accasioned, are incon- 
ceivable. A sergeant of the North Cork, nick-named Tom 
the Devil, was most ingenious in devising new modes of 
torture. Moistened gunpowder was frequently rubbed in- 
to the hair, cut close and then set on fire; some, while 
shearing for this purpose, had the tips of their ears cut 
off; sometimes an entire ear, and often both ears were 
completely cut off; and many lost part of their noses during 
the like preparation. But strange to tell, these atrocities 
were publicly practised without the least reserve in open 
day, and no magistrate or officer ever interfered, but 
shamefully connived at this extraordinary mode of quiet*. 



i3$ APPENDIX. 

ing the people! Some of the miserable sufferers on these 
shocking occasions, or some of their relations or friends, 
actuated by a principle of retaliation, if not of revenge, 
cut short the hair of several persons whom they either con- 
sidered as enemies or suspected of having pointed them 
out as objects for such desperate treatment. This was 
done with a view, that those active citizens should fall in 
for a little experience of the like discipline, or to make 
the fashion of short hair so general that it might no longer 
be a mark of party distinction. Females were also ex- 
posed to the grossest insults from these military ruffians. 
Many women had their petticoats, handkerchiefs, caps, 
ribbons, and all parts of their dress that exhibited a shade 
of green (considered the national colour of Ireland) torn 
off, and their ears assailed by the most vile and indecent 
ribaldry." (Plowden, vol. TV. page 346. ) 



BLOODY TRIDAT. 

"The northern part of the county of Wexford had been 
almost totally deserted by the male inhabitants, at the ap- 
proach of the army under General Needham. Some of the 
Yeomanry, who had formerly deserted it, returned to Go- 
rey, and on finding no officer of the army as was expected, 
to command there, they, with many others, who returned 
along with them, scoured the country round, and killed 
great numbers in their houses, besides all the stragglers 
they met, most of whom were making the best of their way 
home unarmed from the insurgents, who were then believ- 
ed to be totally discomfited. These transactions being 
made known to a body of the insurgents encamped at Pep- 
pard's Castle; they resolved to retaliate* and directly 



APPENDIX. 429 

marched for Gorcy, whither they had otherwise no inten- 
tion of proceeding. The Yeomen and their associates, up- 
on the near approach of the Insurgents, ifcd back with pre- 
cipitation; and thence accompanied by many others, hast- 
ened towards Arklow, but were pursued as far as Cool- 
greney, with the loss of forty-seven men. The day was 
called bloody Friday. The insurgents had been exaspe- 
rated to this vengeance, by discovering through the coun- 
try as they came along several dead men with their skulls 
split asunder, their bowels ripped open, and their throats 
cut across, besides some dead women and children; they 
even met the dead bodies of two women, about which their 
surviving children were weeping and bewailing them. 
These sights hastened the insurgents' force to Gorey, 
where their exasperation was considerably augmented by 
discovering the pigs in the streets devouring the bodies of 
nine men, who had been hanged the day before, with seve- 
ral others recently shot, and some still expiring." ( Plow- 
den, vol. V. p. S6.J 



EEMALE WRETCHEDNESS. 

"The Reverend Mr. Gorden, an Episcopal clergyman, 
recounts an occurrence after the battle, of which his son 
was a witness, which greatly illustrates the state of the 
country at that time: Two Yeomen coining to a brake or 
clump of bushes, and obscrung a small motion, as if some 
persons were hiding there, one of them fired into it, and 
the shot was answered by a most piteous and loud screech 
of a child. The other Yeoman was then urged by his 
companion to fire; but being less ferocious, instead of 
firing, commanded the concealed persons to appear, when 



430 APPENDIX. 



a poor woman and eight children, almost naked, one of 
whom was severely wounded, came trembling from the 
brake, where they had secreted themselves for safety," 
(Phwden, vol. V. p. Z.) 



MARY SMITH. 

The following letter, the simple, unadorned and genuine ex- 
pression of misery, may serve better than the most labored 
strains of eloquence, to shew, that the hideous system of 
Marat was never practised in full vigour, but against 
the innocent and unresisting Irish peasant. 

Mo wore, June 23, 1797. 
Dear James, 

To my great grief and sorrow I have to inform you of 
the untimely end of your two brothers; and, alas! me de- 
prived of a good husband. It is tedious to insert all the 
miseries the enemies to United Irishmen have brought on 
this neighborhood; but particularly on the town of Moy- 
vore, where there was forty houses and tenements burned, 
and levelled to the ground, on Monday night last, totally, 
by a boy of Pat Ward's, who was taken for robbery, and 
to avoid being shot, turned informer, and brought in the 
guilty and innocent. He first discovered where there was 
found arms, and that was found true, they gave his speech 
credit afterwards. The same day, after shooting three 
men, the father and two sons where they found the arms, 
they took poor Jack and Harry, together with one Mick 
Murray, and when they could not get information from 
them, after getting the rites of the church, they were shot 
on Bally more green. We waked them in the chapel of 
Moyvore, when no man dare go near us, and applied to 



APPENDIX. 451 

the Scully's, to shew us where we would bury them in 
Moran's Town, and not one of them would come near us; 
nor could we get one to carry them, until Pat Flancgan 
gave us a bed to carry them to Templepatrick, where we 
buried them. Harry's little effects were saved; but on ac- 
count of my going backward and forward to Ballymore, all 
my effects were consumed to ashes, as there was no one to 
carry them out. So, my dear friend, I have no shelter 
here, and I will impatiently wait your answer; or if you 
can afford me any relief let me know it, as poor Jack re- 
lied on you to relieve his children; so no more at present 
from a poor disconsolate widow, who subscribes herself, 
your loving sister-in-law. 
f See Beauties of the Press, p. 346 J MARY SMITH. 



PEMA1E CHASTITY. 

Mr. Plowden, vol 4, p. 339, observes that "as to this 
species of outrage, which rests not in proof, it is universally 
allowed to have been exclusively on the side of the milita- 
ry; it produced an indignant horror in the country, for it 
is a characteristic mark of the Irish nation, neither to for- 
get nor forgive an insult or injury done to the honor of 
their female relatives. It has been boasted of by officers 
of rank, that within certain large districts a woman had 
not been left Undented; and upon observation in answer, 
that the sex must then have been very complying, the reply 
was, that the bayonet removed all squeamishness. A lady 
of fashion, having in conversation been questioned as to 
this difference of conduct towards the sex, in the military 
and the rebels, attributed it in disgust to a want of gal- 
lantry in the croppies." 



432 APPENDIX. 

It had often happened to Irishmen, to he accused of 
too great sensibility to the charms of the fair. It remain- 
ed for this desperate faction to make their generous con- 
tinence their crime. 

The crime then of Irishmen is this, to win the fair by 
persuasions, and defend them with their last drop of blood. 
The boast of their enemies is, to overcome their chastity 
by bra tal force, and their loathing by the bayonet. Oh, 
monsters! hateful in the eyes of civilized humanity! More 
barbarous than the tygers that prowl through the desert. 
When your power and your money shall cease to hear down 
truth, how hideous will be your name in future history! 

Something similar to those boastings and those jests, is 
a work lately imported into America, as the production of 
a British minister, Canning. There are some jokes, 
vapid, stale and disgusting, touching the hanging of Irish- 
men, and some drivelling attempts to laugh at Mr. Plow- 
den's preface. If that witling author, whoever he was, 
meant to point out to general view the abject meanness of 
a British cabinet, he did well to advert to that preface. 
If he wished to make known the spirit of the wolfish gang, 
he did well to simper at their atrocious deeds in Ireland. 

The felonious gibes of this author, have been compared 
to the elegant irony of the Salmangundy. But oh how 
unlike! That little American work, while it gracefully 
wantons through the regions of taste, does not make sport 
for ladies, of hanging and massacreing; nor would the del- 
icacy and refinement of the American Fair tolerate such 
ruffian railleries. 






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